


Cliffjumper

by LingeringLilies



Series: Spins/Jumper [2]
Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon Universe, F/F, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-12
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2018-09-16 23:21:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 54,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9294209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LingeringLilies/pseuds/LingeringLilies
Summary: Maggie Sawyer knew two things about herself from a young age: she wanted to be a police officer, and she liked girls the way most girls liked boys.The rest, however, was a little more complicated.(The evolution of Maggie Sawyer from age 13 to the moment she knew she was in love with Alex Danvers.)





	1. Devil's Bluff

**Author's Note:**

> This is a pre-canon/canon compliant story that gives an imagined backstory for Maggie, then shows what happens between the scenes once she meets Alex. A complementary piece from Alex's perspective titled "And Still The World Spins" will always be posted in conjunction with chapters of this story. You can read just one, but they're stronger together.
> 
> I am nothing without my lifelong beta @youreterriblemuriel. Thanks also to @tikerion for her fresh eyes.

Maggie was thirteen the first time she fell in love.

But it wasn’t with a person. No, Maggie fell in love with something much more complicated.

Blue Springs, Nebraska was not an exciting place. With just over three hundred residents, the town was too small to have its own grocery store or movie theater. Most people in town worked in nearby Wymore or Beatrice, and those that worked in town had jobs with an automotive company or trucking service. Maggie’s mom, Elisa,  cleaned rooms at the Holiday Inn on Rt 77 in Beatrice, and Maggie’s dad, Merle,  delivered Budweiser to every every bar, road house, and diner in the western corner of the state . 

Maggie had just started seventh grade at Southern Elementary with the same dozen kids she’d gone to school with since kindergarten. She was scrawny and quiet and liked to be alone most of the time, but her classmates knew she was always good for a game of kickball or soccer on the dusty little field behind the school. Her best friend, Talia, was the only other girl in her class who didn’t have blonde hair, and the only one Maggie didn’t mind being around most of the time. 

The last few years had been tough for Maggie. Her parents had gotten a divorce two years earlier, eighteen months after having another baby in a last-ditch attempt to make things work. Elisa had gotten remarried almost immediately to a man who hardly gave Maggie the time of day, and a few months ago they’d told Maggie she was going to have a half sister to go with her little brother. Elisa was six months pregnant now, and everything was about the new baby and the new husband and the new house he kept promising to buy them once he get promoted to county clerk.

There wasn’t a lot of room for Maggie, so she spent time reading her mother’s collection of Nancy Drew books, riding her bike with Talia, or taking care of her little brother Petey.

The day Maggie fell in love for the first time, she was walking with Petey through the parking lot of the Beatrice Walmart. Their mother was inside shopping and had instructed Maggie to stay outside and entertain him.

It wasn't hard to entertain him. Four-year-old Petey liked three things: cars, clapping, and _Thomas the Tank Engine_. The Walmart parking lot was the biggest one of any of the nearby towns, so there were plenty of cars to look at. The cement was crisp and radiated the relentless early September heat back up at them as they walked up and down the rows. Maggie tried to ignore the double-takes from people who didn’t know them already.

Petey was different than most kids, and not in a way that endeared him to people. Petey was different in a way that made Maggie wonder why no one else seemed worried for him. He walked on the balls of his feet, he clapped all the time, and at age four, he still didn’t speak. The few times Maggie tried to hug him, he started shrieking and pushing her away, slapping at his head as though something had slithered in his ear and wouldn’t come out.

When they were at their mom’s house, Elisa would give a fatigued smile and tell Maggie, “Leave him be, Margaret. He’ll be okay.” When they were with their dad, he would just sigh and say, “Leave Petey alone, for Chrissake…”

But Maggie didn’t want to leave Petey alone. She felt protective of him, like no one understood him. She talked to him sometimes, but he didn’t respond. She wasn’t sure he could understand her. She tried pointing to things, hoping she could teach him, but it didn’t seem to help. So she decided that just spending time with him, playing with his toy trains and cars, making little locomotive noises was the best she could do.

They walked through the rows of cars, Petey getting animated, clapping and vocalizing whenever he saw a Chevy from 1997 or earlier. Maggie smiled and nodded every time, walking close to him, always worried a car would come barreling around a corner and plough into him. 

After twenty minutes, Maggie noticed Petey was doing the little dance he did when he had to pee. 

"Need to use the bathroom, Petey?" 

He didn't respond, only looked back toward the Walmart. That was as good as confirmation, so Maggie turned around and gestured for Petey to follow her. She would have taken his hand if she hadn’t known it would upset him.

She took him into the handicap stall of the women's restroom, helping him with the button on his pants and up onto the seat. When he was done she fastened his pants for him and he tottered out of the stall. Maggie took the opportunity to use the bathroom herself, knowing Petey would wait for her by the sink for help washing his hands.

But when she left the stall, Petey was nowhere to be seen.

A cold splash of panic hit her like a truck.

Losing Petey was bad. Very bad. 

She darted out of the bathroom, calling for him, knowing he wouldn't respond even if he heard her. He never responded to his name, which didn't seem to phase anyone but Maggie. 

The Walmart suddenly seemed huge and sinister, and she was certain Petey would get hurt or have one of his tantrums before she could find him. Then her mother would yell at her for being careless and she'd be grounded, all because no one could be bothered to figure out what was wrong with him.

Maggie never said it, but sometimes she felt as lonely as Petey must have felt.

She tore up and down aisles, calling for him, asking crew members if they'd seen a little boy with a _Thomas_ shirt and red sneakers. The employees shook their heads, asking if she'd checked the toy aisle. She ignored their suggestions - Petey wouldn’t know how to find the toy aisle - and darted into the next aisle.

Then she realized that if Petey would ever intentionally head to a particular section of the store, it would be the automotive aisle.

Just as she turned to race toward that section, she heard a telltale shriek.

"No... no, Petey, no," she said under her breath, picking up speed. She felt so helpless when her brother freaked out, so confused as to why her parents always looked to her for an explanation. He tantrumed when she wasn't around, and yet whenever she was they seemed to think she was the catalyst.

But this time she only heard one shriek, and by the time she skidded into the automotive aisle and saw Petey backed up against a shelf with wide eyes, she was hopeful a full tantrum had been averted.

But what captivated her more than Petey's abated tantrum was the woman squatting a few yards away from him with a gentle smile on her face.

She wore a crisp, navy blue uniform, and her badge identified her as an officer from the Gage County Police Department. Her utility belt sat snug on her hips, and her chest pushed at the pockets of her shirt. She looked strong and authoritative.

But more than that, Maggie saw the look of utmost kindness and concern on her face as she studied Petey. Between them, she had extended a fuzzy steering wheel cover, the texture exactly the kind of thing Petey would fixate on, running his fingers over it again and again. The officer seemed to be considering him with intention and care. She wasn't hovering over him or invading his space. She was just crouching near him, making sure he was okay.

Maggie darted forward. "Petey!" she gasped, relieved and wishing more than ever she could hug him. 

"Looks like someone came looking for ya," the officer said to Petey with a grin. 

"Petey, why'd you run away?" Maggie said, breathless as she came to a halt a few feet away from him. He flinched at the speed of her movement.

“He just wanted to compare prices on fuel injector cleaner," the officer said. “Family?”

“His sister," Maggie confirmed.

"Glad you found him."

Maggie swallowed and nodded, suddenly in awe as the woman stood, towering over her thirteen-year-old frame. 

"Thanks for, um, watching him," Maggie said. She glanced at the woman’s name tag. “Officer Colburn.”

"Just doin' my job. Don’t let him wander away again," the woman said, hitching her belt up and striding away.

Maggie watched her walk away, fascinated by the confidence with which she wore her uniform. 

Maggie was in love, but it would take her a few more years to realize with what.

She turned back to Petey, crouching like Officer Colburn had done. 

“Petey, that was _bad_ ,” she said. She hardly ever used such strong language with him; he wasn’t a bad kid. He was different and misunderstood. Still, she amended. “Don’t wander away from me in stores, okay?”

Petey gave no indication he’d heard her, humming and running his fingers over the steering wheel cover. Maggie stayed like that for minutes, feeling helpless and scared for Petey.

Finally, grasping the steering wheel cover, Maggie gently led Petey toward the registers, where they found their mom. Maggie didn’t tell her mom about what had happened. She didn’t want to get in trouble. Pregnancy seemed to make her more irritable, and Maggie found the best way to handle it was to stay away. 

Elisa glanced down at the steering wheel cover in distaste, and Maggie knew better than to ask that she buy it. They didn’t have money to spend on things that weren’t practical. Maggie almost spoke up to say that it _was_ practical; by holding the ring, she’d been able to guide Petey toward the registers as though holding his hand. 

Instead, she saved up her two-dollar-a-week allowance and bought it for him herself. 

When she went back to that aisle in Walmart, she thought of officer Colburn and wondered how she’d known how to approach Petey. Maggie had known Petey his whole life, shared a room with him on the weekends they stayed with their dad, and she still didn’t know how to help him sometimes. The question gnawed at her so intensely, she took every opportunity to go to Beatrice, hoping to run into Officer Colburn. Finally, after months of wondering whether she was being stupid, she took the bus from Blue Springs to the Gage County Police Precinct and asked to speak to her.

Officer Colburn was even more intimidating than Maggie remembered. She was tall and broad-shouldered and smiling, asking what she could do to help as Maggie stood there in her shabby jeans and t-shirt and scuffed Converse.

“How did you know how to help my brother?” Maggie mumbled.

“Your who now?”

“My brother,” Maggie said. 

“I’m sorry, kid, I don’t remember him,” Officer Colburn said with a gentle smile. 

“You found him in Walmart a while ago. He, um…” She paused, not sure how to explain Petey without making him sound too weird. “He doesn’t talk and he doesn’t like to be touched and he’s afraid of a lot of things.”

“Oh, I _do_ remember. Little guy with a Thomas shirt?”

Maggie nodded enthusiastically.

“I got a nephew who’s autistic. See him all the time. I try and help my sister out as much as I can, cuz it’s hard, you know. I mean, you _do_ know.”

“Wait, what did you say he was?”

Officer Colburn frowned at her for a second. “Autistic?”

“Yeah, what is that?”

“You haven’t heard your parents say that word?”

Maggie shook her head.

Officer Colburn’s face fell and her eyes scanned the lobby of the department before she answered. “It’s uh… well, it’s a brain thing. That’s why he doesn’t talk or respond to things like normal. He’s not stupid. He just… his brain is just different.”

“Can it get better?”

Officer Colburn looked around, reluctant. “Look, kid… I’m just an auntie to one little guy. Not an expert or anything. But I’m sure there’s a number you can call to ask all your questions.”

Maggie may have been young, but she knew that meant the answer was no.

Her heart sank for her brother.

Still, she was grateful to have a word to put to Petey that explained why she was so worried about him.

She asked Officer Colburn for a number to call, and Officer Colburn said she’d ask her sister. She gave Maggie her card, and Maggie took it with both hands, as though it were precious. She traced its edges the whole bus ride home, wondering how soon she could call without seeming like an annoying kid.

After getting an information hotline number from Officer Colburn a few days later, Maggie presented the information to her mother as she was nursing Maggie’s newborn sister Anastasia. Her mother was confused for a minute, then annoyed, telling Maggie to bring her a fresh burp cloth and finish her homework and stop pestering her about Petey. Petey would be fine, she assured Maggie. He just had to grow out of his quirks. 

Maggie waited until she saw her dad that weekend and told him what she’d learned. While at first it seemed like Merle didn’t hear her, a few weeks later he took Petey for some testing in Omaha, two hours away. Maggie had never felt so proud before; something she’d done had actually influenced her dad to get Petey some help.

The county didn’t offer much, but Petey was given a case manager who coordinated his services at the public school in Beatrice. Elisa never said anything to Maggie about it, but she didn’t complain because Petey’s new school was on her way to work. 

Blue Springs was a small town, and word that the Sawyer boy had to go to a different school spread. Maggie had heard kids calls each other a lot of terrible things over the years. But when she heard her lifelong classmate Matthew call Petey a retard, something came over her, like a full-body shield of anger. She stayed composed, sizing Matthew up for a moment. Then she made a calculated fist and cranked her arm back, aimed right at his nose. He was on the ground yowling in pain before her fist started to hurt. She felt a little better, but she still seethed. 

“What the fuck was that for?” Matthew scowled at her.

Maggie had been able to express herself perfectly with her fist, but she stumbled at replying.

“Just- don’t-… leave my brother alone!”

Matthew smirked even as blood started to drip from his nose.

“Ok, I won’t leave your brother alone.”

Maggie pulled her foot back, preparing to kick him in the ribs, but he cowered, holding his hands up.

“Okay, okay, I’ll leave him alone,” he whined, then muttered, “Crazy bitch.”

Maggie glowered at him, trying to menace him as best she could with her small frame.

“Next time you even think about my brother I’ll push you off Devil’s Bluff.” 

Matthew looked at her like she was crazy, even if she’d just been posturing. Devil’s Bluff was the tallest cliff in the state, overlooking the Gage County reservoir. Only one person had ever jumped off it and lived. 

Satisfied she’d scared the kid enough, she stomped off to the other side of the blacktop to find Talia.

Maggie knew she was too old to be getting in fights on the playground. She’d be going to high school next year, and that kind of behavior wasn’t acceptable. If her parents found out, she’d be grounded for a while. Hopefully the front office wouldn’t hear about it and if they did, hopefully they’d call her dad, who wouldn’t care.

But of course, Matthew told a teacher, and the vice principal called Maggie’s mom, who came to pick her up with a displeased look on her face.

“What were you thinking, Margaret?” she said. “I had to wake Anastasia up from her nap to come get you.”

Maggie slouched in the passenger’s seat, angry that no one understood. 

As expected, she was grounded for a while, but what she didn’t expect was for her mother to take a meeting with the vice principal about it. Her mom, who couldn’t be bothered to try to get Petey help with basic things like speaking and walking, was suddenly worried about Maggie because she’d punched some little punk in Petey’s defense. It was so backwards. 

But the outcome of that meeting wasn’t bad. The vice principal thought Maggie “just had some teenage aggression to work out,” so Maggie’s mom signed her up for a basketball league through the local Catholic church. Maggie liked it, even if she didn’t really click with her team and didn’t score as many baskets as she could have if she were taller. But she was scrappy and she liked running around the gym with a purpose, liked the kinetic energy of it, loved the risk of every shot.

But what really set her buzzing was her father’s reaction to her supposed aggression. Maggie was surprised her mom even communicated what had happened to Merle, but as Maggie predicted, he wasn’t mad. Instead, he took her out in his truck, saying it was about time he showed her something. They drove out to a field where there was a series of hay bale targets, and he took two hunting rifles out.

Maggie could hardly believe he was teaching her to shoot. Hunting was something he’d always said was for boys. When Petey was small, Merle had talked about teaching him how to shoot, but he and Maggie both knew Petey should never be around guns. The noise would be too much, and the danger too great, and Merle would be too disappointed his only son couldn’t share his interest.

Maggie was more than happy to take Petey’s place as her dad’s protégé. 

The first lesson was mostly about safety, care, cleaning, and responsible gun ownership. Merle explained the design of the weapon, how most rifles were built the same way, with slight variations depending on whether it was designed for a scope or not. He spoke to Maggie in a way he never had before; completely focused, serious, and almost daring her to look away or forget a single thing he told her. After a twenty minute lecture, he let her hold the .22, showing her how to clear it and make sure it was safe. He showed her how to stand, how to keep her knees loose, how to bring the rifle up to her eye line rather than bending her neck down to it. Then he helped her line up a shot even though it wasn’t loaded. 

“Stand straight and tall, Maggie. Bring the gun up to your line of sight to line up your shot. Breathe slow and deep. Focus on the front sight. Now, squeeze the trigger, don’t pull. Hold your breath and keep squeezing ’til it surprises you when it goes off. That’s it. Good.”

He had her line up several shots before he showed her how to load the gun and let her take a single, thrilling shot. The noise and kickback truly startled her - it was LOUD - but she loved the rush and power of it. 

The whole ride home she felt a low, steady buzz of excitement. Her father had never made her feel so grown up and trusted. That night she went over and over his instructions in her mind, wondering when he’d take her shooting again.

The next weekend he took her out again, asked her to show him everything he’d taught her previously. She showed him how to check to make sure it was clear and safe, showed him how to stand, how to hold it, how to line up a shot. 

Then he asked her to load the gun and let her fire another shot. She wasn’t quite steady, and she missed the target completely when the rifle butted back into her shoulder. She winced but tried to mask it. She didn’t want Merle to think she couldn’t handle it. 

This time he let her get in ten shots, five of which hit the target.

After she’d brought down the rifle and set the safety, he clapped her on the back and told her she’d done good.

From then on they went almost every weekend, driving in silence, working on Maggie’s marksmanship. Maggie rarely felt like she had much to talk about with her dad, but when they went shooting, she didn’t feel like she had to. The had an understanding of quietness punctuated by little bursts of closeness.

When hunting season started, Maggie was worried her dad would ask her to go with him. In her initial excitement she hadn’t considered that hunting meant actually killing. She would have relished the time together and the target practice, but the thought of killing a living thing unsettled her. She supposed she could have intentionally missed, but she was getting good enough that Merle would figure it out after a few missed shots. She didn’t want to choose between killing an animal and disappointing her dad. Luckily, there seemed to be a few gender lines Merle wasn’t able to get past. Hunting was for men, and not matter how good a shot Maggie was, she was still a girl.

Instead of hunting, Maggie spent her weekends with Talia or Petey and the new baby or at her job bagging groceries at Superfoods in Wymore. She saved up her money for a computer and eventually a car. She was learning to drive in her mom’s old station wagon and was looking forward to not having to ride her bike or take the bus everywhere.

At Southern High, things weren’t much different than they’d been at Southern Elementary, though she now had to take the bus to Wymore. Petey was in a special needs class in Beatrice, and even though he was getting services from the county, her mother still couldn’t be bothered to say the word autism. Her dad avoided it too. Maggie did well in school, feeling like she somehow had to compensate for her brother, to make her parents proud for both of them. She got straight As in all the highest level classes without trying very hard. 

Toward the end of the year, Miss Thompson assigned her sophomore English class to interview a professional in a field they didn’t know much about. Maggie didn’t consider anyone by Officer Colburn. Nervous and fumbling with the card she’d kept tucked in with her socks at her mom’s house, she called the precinct and asked, in an unsteady voice, if she could speak to her. Officer Colburn was friendly as ever.

“You’re that girl with the brother, aren’t you?” she asked.

It was a vague description, but Maggie said she was.

“How’s he doing?”

Maggie told Officer Colburn of the research she’d done, how Merle had taken Petey for testing in Omaha and been placed in a special day program. 

“Well, heck,” Officer Colburn said, grinning through the phone. “Why don’t you come by the precinct after school tomorrow and do the interview in person.”

Maggie was so excited, she called Talia right away, asking if she’d come to Beatrice with her and help with the interview the next day. Maggie stayed up until midnight writing down her interview questions, worrying they sounded juvenile or somehow revealed how little she knew about police work.

She woke the next morning without her alarm, putting on her favorite jeans and blouse, twisting her hair up instead of pulling it back in her usual ponytail. In the bathroom she tried putting on some of her mom’s mascara, wondering if it would make her look older.

By now Maggie realized her fascination with Officer Colburn was unusual. But it wasn’t like Petey’s fixation on cars or trains, so she reasoned she didn’t need to be worried about it.

As Maggie and Talia rode the bus to Beatrice that afternoon, Talia noticed Maggie was nervous.

“You’ll do great,” Talia assured her. “Everyone knows you’re the smartest kid in our class.”

“Officer Colburn doesn’t know that,” Maggie said, bouncing her knee.

“Yeah, but you said she’s nice, right?”

Maggie nodded

“So why are you so anxious?”

Maggie shifted, not sure how to explain.

Talia’s face brightened with an idea. “Oh, do you want to be a cop?”

In that moment, everything clicked for Maggie. Her fascination with Officer Colburn, her admiration for other people in uniform, her nerves. 

She gave Talia a sheepish smile and bit her lip, nodding.

“That’s _great_ ,” Talia said, beaming. “You’ll be great at that.”

Though Maggie knew Talia’s fifteen-year-old vote of confidence shouldn’t mean much, it felt like everything.

Despite Maggie’s nerves, the interview went well, mostly because Officer Colburn was kind and patient with her as she stammered through her questions and because Talia helped whenever Maggie stumbled. Officer Colburn didn’t make Maggie feel stupid or juvenile. She made Maggie feel safe, like she deserved to have her questions answered.

They had just finished when a call came through on Officer Colburn’s radio. Maggie listened in rapt attention, wondering what the codes meant and if anything exciting was happening.

Officer Colburn responded, then turned to Maggie and Talia with a grin.

“You girls wanna ride in the back of a cop car?”

Speechless, Maggie nodded, feeling like Christmas and her birthday had converged into the single best thing that had ever happened to her.

Talia was all giggles and questions as they climbed into the back of the cruiser, asking why there were no seat belts and why the seats were plastic and had Officer Colburn ever arrested a murderer in this car. Maggie took in every detail; every button and latch and device on the console, every move of Officer Colburn as she put the car in gear and alerted the dispatcher that she had two ride-alongs on her call. 

As they drove through the familiar streets of Beatrice, Maggie felt like she was flying. She felt so important and powerful, like safety followed the car in a wave. They rode along as Officer Colburn responded to routine checks, which she assured the girls weren’t dangerous and didn’t usually result in any arrests. 

Talia reached for Maggie’s hand, squeezing, and Maggie squeezed back, beaming, knowing there was no one else she wanted to share this experience with. Talia was almost as excited as she was because she knew how much this meant to Maggie. Maggie could have stayed in the back of the cruiser holding Talia’s hand for days.

By the time Officer Colburn brought them back to the precinct, Maggie knew. She was in love, and nothing would stop her from becoming a police officer.

* * *

Miss Thompson was a young, hopeful woman placed in Gage County through Teach For America. She was enthusiastic and bright-eyed, and despite the tepid response she often got from her students, Maggie loved her.

Miss Thompson took a special interest in Maggie. She told her every time Maggie went to check the homework assignment after school that if she applied herself, she could go to college and get a great job. Maggie told her she already knew wanted to be a police officer, which Miss Thompson was enthusiastic about.

“But you know, Maggie, if you have a college degree, your salary will be higher and you’ll have opportunities for advancement in your department you wouldn’t have if you applied straight out of high school.”

Maggie chewed this over. The prospect of college was intriguing. She liked to learn, and college would probably be more interesting than high school. Her mother had done a year of community college before she married Maggie’s dad, but she never talked about it. 

“Does anyone in your family have a degree?” Miss Thompson asked.

Maggie shook her head, realizing she had to go because Petey couldn’t and Ana was still tiny.

“There’s lots of scholarships for first generation college students,” Miss Thompson said. “Especially for girls who are…” She trailed off, not sure how to finish her sentence. 

Miss Thompson had touched on the thing that set Maggie apart from most of her classmates. She looked different than them: dark hair, dark eyes, skin that was tan even without time spent in the sun. 

“I think it’d be good for you to get out of Blue Springs and see the world,” Miss Thompson said. 

Maggie nodded, wishing she could see the world with Miss Thompson, who as far she was concerned, was the smartest and most beautiful person in it. 

* * *

Maggie didn't have a moment of realization that she was gay. There was no epiphany or glaring sign pointing her toward understanding why she felt the way she felt. There were just clues along the way that she strung together until one day she saw herself clearly. Fear didn't creep up on her, nor did she doubt anything she was feeling. If someone had asked her how she knew she was gay, she wouldn't have been able to explain it. Which was okay, since no one ever asked until she was in college and had a few experiences under her belt she could point to instead.

The pieces of evidence she collected seemed almost sequential. She had to squint to see the appeal of her classmates' crushes on Freddie Prinze Jr., Jonathan Taylor Thomas, and Ryan Reynolds. She could maybe see the appeal of Hanson, but in hindsight that was self-explanatory. Her obsession with Lara Croft wasn’t too complicated either. She saw her unadulterated admiration for Miss Thompson for what it was: her first real crush, her first idealized woman. 

And of course, there were more concrete things that helped Maggie realize she was gay too.

The first time Maggie touched herself, it was a revelation. She didn't set out to achieve anything; she was laying in bed, sleepless, thinking about something that had happened after school.

Hand on her stomach, her fingers toyed with the time-softened band of her pajama bottoms. Absentmindedly, she slipped her fingers lower, and when her body responded, she realized something was happening. She didn't even touch herself under her panties that first time; her fingers just swam over the cotton seam of her underwear, exploring how different pressures zipped through her, surging and swelling, slinging pressure between her legs and heat all over her skin.

She thought of some of the girls at school. She had noticed, without meaning to, that all the girls seemed to have coordinated to wear skirts a few days ago. Spring was just breaking, and the weather wasn't quite warm enough, but the wishful wardrobes of the girls at Southern High didn’t seem to care.

Maggie thought about their legs. Lean, muscular, pale, leading up into their skirts. Maggie envied the long legs of her classmates; she was so short, she didn't even try to wear skirts like they did.

And then there were the expanding chests around her. Maggie was fascinated, wondering at all the different shapes and sizes brewing under shirts and sweaters. Her own chest hadn't done much that anyone else noticed, but sometimes Maggie looked down and saw a woman's body trying to break through her small frame. 

And most of all, Maggie thought of other girls' faces. Bright, mostly blue-eyed faces framed by blond hair, peppered with freckles. What Maggie loved most were their smiles, how their faces seemed to light up when they revealed their teeth, newly freed of braces, and how their eyes sparkled when they laughed. Maggie thought there was nothing more beautiful than a smiling girl.

As she thought about all these things, she felt her body trembling, her breath growing ragged. She bit her lips, trying to stay quiet as her fingers grew more intentional and determined.

She didn't know exactly what she was chasing - something big - but when she found it, she was delirious with its discovery.

All the beautiful girls she knew flashed before her; their legs, their chests, their smiles. Miss Thompson, Talia. She lay in the dark, panting as quietly as she could, settling into the sheets again, sticky and sated and understanding something bigger than herself.

She didn't tell anyone right away. She didn't feel the urge to, since it was entirely theoretical. Well, not entirely theoretical. The next time she touched herself she thought of Lara Croft and knew she was onto something. She started constructing more concrete fantasies involving Wynona Ryder and the point guard for her favorite WNBA team. And always, the fantasy ended with the other girl smiling and happy beside her, as though nothing was wrong in the world so long as they could share this secret delight.

One boring day that summer Maggie rode her bike way out to Devil’s Bluff in an unincorporated part of Gage County with Talia and her boyfriend Mike. They sat at the top of the cliff overlooking the reservoir, catching their breath for a few minutes, Talia and Mike grinning at each other like Maggie wasn’t there. 

And Maggie wasn’t entirely there. She was thinking about Miss Thompson, wondering what she did on days like today, wondering if she sat around reading books in an elegant chair, or cooking food for her boyfriend if she had one, or scrapbooking with friends like Talia’s mom sometimes did. Maggie couldn’t picture her doing mundane things like laundry or going to Walmart, though logically Maggie knew she must.

She thought of what Miss Thompson had said, that Maggie had a lot of potential. She wondered what it would mean to realize her potential. There seemed to be more to it than studying hard and getting good grades, because she was already doing that. She’d have to ask Miss Thompson the next time she had a moment alone with her. She hoped it would be soon.

Maggie tried to tune out the sound of Talia giggling next to her. It was a strange giggle, a sound Maggie never heard when Mike wasn’t around. It made her sound stupid. Maggie didn’t like it because she knew Talia was just as smart as she was. If Mike liked her for pretending to be stupid, what would happen? Would Talia spend every minute around him as though she’d been possessed by a deranged cheerleader?

Maggie grew sullen and annoyed. She picked at some pieces of grass, long-dried in the summer sun. She rested her elbows on her knees, staring out at the giant open sky and endless flat land around them as Talia continued to chatter away at Mike, inserting too many “reallys” and “likes” and “Ohmigods.”

Maggie would have done almost anything to make it stop.

“I dare you to jump,” Talia said coquettishly to Mike.

Mike’s eyes went wide. “You’re crazy.”

“Chicken?” Talia taunted.

“No, I just don’t have a death wish,” Mike said.

“Bawk, bawk, bawk,” Talia said.

Maggie looked at Mike, wondering if he’d take the bait. At least if he jumped she’d get the regular Talia back and they could ride their bikes back down into town and get huckleberry shakes without her having to hear heavily edited versions of that time they’d broken into the county fair after hours for Mike’s sake.

But Mike swatted his hand through the air as though to dismiss Talia.

Talia started whining about how it really wasn’t that big a drop, and she knew one kid who had jumped a few years ago and he was totally fine. 

Maggie rolled her eyes, tired of Talia’s insistence that Mike prove his bravery and manliness through something as silly as jumping off a cliff. Maggie was smugly satisfied that Mike refused to jump.

But then, sitting there watching his ears pink as Talia continued to push him, Maggie got an idea.

She stood and walked toward the edge of the cliff, looking down at the water. It was deep, and on a day like today it looked almost inviting. But the drop was huge, and other than that one kid they knew who had jumped a few years ago, she didn’t know anyone who’d done it.

All the more reason for her to do it, right?

She took a few paces back, slipping out of her shoes and socks, dropping her wallet on the grass beside Talia.

Her whole body buzzed, shaking with the thrill of what she was about to do. Her heart pounded and her vision narrowed onto the few yards between where she stood and the edge.

“Maggie, what-”

But Talia didn’t get a chance to finish her sentence before Maggie took a running start and leapt off the edge of the cliff, arcing out into the air, weightless for the briefest moment before she plummeted down, down, down, legs loose and arms out as though to catch as much wind as she could.

Only as she fell did she realize she was going to hit the water. She braced for it, ready to drown. 

She heard the crash and felt ice cold water consume her, and she was almost surprised. She crashed into the darkness, feeling her body seize up with the shock of it. She came to a soft, sloshing halt after a few a quick curve into the depths, then started scrambling up for air.

She surfaced, sputtering and gasping, hair sticking to her face, clothing loose and tangled around her in the water. She coughed a few times, getting her bearings as she tread water. She had actually jumped off Devil’s Bluff. The last thirty seconds felt like moments from another person’s life. 

She looked up to see Talia and Mike’s heads way above, jaws dropped in astonishment.

Maggie grinned and lifted a cold, wet hand to wave at them, then swam to the bank, sloshing out and wringing her clothes as best she could.

Talia and Mike tore down the hill as fast as they could.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Talia demanded as she rushed toward Maggie.

Maggie just shrugged. “You wanted to see someone jump.”

“Are you okay?” Talia said, still breathless and with a terrified look on her face.

Maggie looked down at herself, seeing her goosebumped tan skin in a different light, as though it belonged to someone older and braver than she was. 

“Think so,” she said with a grin. “Unless I died and this is heaven, in which case I’m a little disappointed,” she said, forcibly stopping herself from directing the comment toward Mike.

Talia gasped in frustration and rushed forward, arms up to hug Maggie, needing to check that she was really okay.

Maggie felt her wet shirt bleed into the fabric of Talia’s where their breasts had started growing over the last year. She felt the aftershocks of adrenaline buzz through her.

Talia held her for longer than ever, rocking side to side as she pressed Maggie to her, and Maggie thought that she’d happily jump off Devil’s Bluff every day if it meant Talia would hold her like this every time.

But Talia seemed to sense this and pulled back.

“Don’t fucking do that again,” she scolded. “It’s dangerous and stupid and you’re lucky you didn’t hit your head.”

Maggie just shrugged again with a stupid grin, smug in the fact that Talia hadn’t been concerned about such a thing when she was goading Mike to jump.

She was still Talia’s number one. As long as she could maintain that, she’d be okay.

* * *

Maggie knew, somewhere in the back of her mind, that her feelings for Talia weren’t just friendly. She felt bad about it when it led her to doing things like showing up Talia’s boyfriend or wishing Talia would break up with him. But she also felt like she was giving Talia something better than most friendships; she’d protect her and care about her beyond the point most friends would.

So while it wasn’t more than friendship, she told herself it was better.

Maggie didn’t know what the next step was. She was gay, she was sure. But she really only had one friend, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to tell her just yet. But she wanted to tell someone. Just to make it that much more real.

She didn’t want to start with her mom. That seemed like high stakes. And she didn’t think she’d ever tell her dad. They rarely talked about anything. 

One afternoon Maggie found herself sitting on the grass in their backyard, shivering a little in the spring breeze, leaning against the family’s chocolate lab Tucker. She stroked the top of his head and scratched behind his ears, feeling his chest rise and fall under head. 

“Tucker,” she said, quiet and contemplative. She didn’t think it was silly to talk to her dog. She’d done it since he was a puppy. “Tucker, I think I’m gay.”

The dog said nothing, of course, but the steadiness of his breathing and constancy of demeanor was comforting. 

“I know you won’t tell anyone. I just needed someone to know.”

Tucker let out a little whine of pleasure and squinted, tongue hanging out over a smile as Maggie scratched his ears. 

“Thanks, buddy.”

* * *

She told Petey next. Not because she thought he would understand or care, but because it was good practice.

She was driving him home from school, wondering if he would ever be able to have a life that looked almost normal, when she was struck by the same question about herself. How would she have a normal life? There were no gay people in Blue Springs that Maggie knew of. That didn’t mean there weren’t any, but Maggie didn’t want to be the first or only one of anything. She thought maybe there would be a few people in Lincoln or Omaha. But did they live normal lives, chatting with their neighbors and working in offices where no one cared if they went home to a girl at night?

Maggie thought about having a little apartment someday with grown up furniture and books and a big bed she shared with a beautiful girl she could kiss whenever she wanted to. 

It was the happiest thought Maggie had ever had. 

She realized right then that she needed to get out of Nebraska if she wanted to make that dream real. And leaving Nebraska meant leaving Petey. And even though his brain worked differently and he probably wouldn’t understand, she held out hope that somewhere in there, he understood her.

“Petey,” she said quietly, looking back at him in his booster seat through the rearview mirror.

He looked at her in the mirror, and Maggie smiled, happy he was making enough progress in his special program to respond to his name. 

“Petey, I love you.”

“I love you,” Petey echoed, mouth struggling to form the sounds so it came out sounding like he was talking around a gob of tortilla dough. 

Maggie knew that he sometimes repeated things he heard, and that he probably didn’t actually mean to tell her he loved her. But she needed to hear it. 

“Petey, I’m gay.”

It was quiet for a moment, and Maggie panicked at the thought of him nonsensically echoing what she’d said. 

But rather than mimicking her, he just said again, “I love you.” And after a moment’s pause, he added, “Maggie.”

Maggie burst into happy tears, gripping the steering wheel tighter.

* * *

Maggie didn't go to her prom. Which didn't surprise anyone, but that didn't stop them from pushing the issue. Talia, who was going with her new boyfriend, kept pestering her about how fun it would be. Maggie gritted her teeth, thinking that watching Talia fuss over some jock in a suit sounded about as far from fun as Blue Springs was from being a roaring metropolis. But all she said to Talia was, "It's not really my thing. I don't... dance and stuff." Talia just sighed and started complaining about how hard it was to coordinate outfits with her date. And though Maggie had no interest in going to prom, for a fleeting moment she imagined coordinating outfits with Talia. They'd wear dresses with contrasting colors - maybe Talia in light blue and Maggie in black, with a matching sash or bow or lace petticoat peeking out from under the skirt.

But she kept that thought to herself, knowing it would never happen.

She still didn’t want to tell Talia she was gay. Talia seemed oblivious, which was fine with Maggie. It wasn't some festering secret. It was just something private she hadn't found the right opportunity to share. And she knew she would. She just wanted to wait for the right moment, if it ever came along. And if it didn't, Maggie knew she'd be okay.

Her mother brought up prom a few days later, asking with only a twinge of hope if Maggie was thinking of going. Maggie just gave her mom an amused look that challenged her to actually imagine Maggie going. Her mom tipped her head, resigned, but couldn't resist throwing out, "I'm sure there are lots of boys who'd want to take you." It wasn't hopeful or coercive. It was just meant to make Maggie feel good about herself.

Maggie wasn’t used to compliments from her mom. Usually Elisa was busy with Anastasia or Maggie’s stepdad. And whether it was the compliment or the rare occasion she had her mom’s attention, Maggie saw her chance.

"Mom... I don't- if I were going to go to the prom, I wouldn't- I wouldn't want a boy as my date. I would want to take a girl."

There was a moment of drop-dead silence until baby Ana spilled something in her high chair and Maggie’s mom had to go clean it up. Maggie watched as she leaned over, wiping Ana's hands with the soft baby washcloth, mopping up the spill. 

Maggie thought she saw her mother's hands shaking.

After the mess was cleaned up, Maggie's mom slung a dishcloth over her shoulder and turned back to Maggie, taking a steadying breath. She walked forward with a look of determination on her face, and for a moment Maggie was frightened; maybe she'd jumped off a cliff into too-shallow waters.

But a forced smile spread over her mother's face, and her mother cupped her cheeks in a way she hadn't done since before Petey was born. 

"I love you, Maggie. No matter what."

And Maggie felt something come home to nest in her chest without realizing it had been gone. 

She told her dad in a similar way. She'd kind of hoped her mom would tell her dad, but given how they could barely communicate enough to coordinate who was taking Petey to his special services from the county, Maggie knew it was doubtful. So when she found herself watching football with her dad on prom night, she decided to create the right moment rather than wait for it. She was nervous. Her palms were sweating as she fidgeted with the sleeves of her Southern High sweatshirt. She could have lived with her mother's disapproval. But if her dad thought it was wrong, Maggie might cry. She didn't want to stop going out shooting with him. 

"It's prom night," she said when her dad muted the TV at the next commercial break.

Her dad grunted, as though disinterested in anything as frivolous as a school dance. "How come you're not going?”

Maggie shrugged.

Merle picked up his beer can for the second time to check that it was empty. "None of the boys at school ask you?"

"Um..."

Maggie took a breath, looking down over the edge of the cliff. 

"Well, no. But, uh... I wouldn't want to go with a boy.”

Merle's fist tightened around the empty beer can, a small metallic click echoing through the room as it dented. Merle looked down at it, contemplating it as though it were a new object. 

Maggie waited, not breathing.

"S'just as well," Merle said in his grumbling way. "Those boys aren't good enough for you anyway."

Maggie felt her heart start hopping. She wanted so badly for her father to be okay with it. But his answer was only half of what she needed to hear.

She steeled herself. "Would a girl be good enough?"

Merle gave a grunting laugh down toward the empty can. "So long as she can keep up. But that’s a tall order.“

Maggie’s smile spread from ear to ear, but she fixed her gaze on the TV. A commercial for Pepsi was playing, and she wondered if every time she drank Pepsi from now on she’d think of how her dad, of all people, had reacted with kindness and his own kind of humor.

Merle shook his beer can absentmindedly a minute later and Maggie hopped up to get him another one. When she handed it to him he gave a nod of thanks. “You want one?”

Maggie was surprised at the offer, but took it as a compliment. Sometimes it felt like her father was the only person who took her seriously. She got herself a beer from the fridge and sat down, heart still pounding from all the nerve it had taken to tell him.

When the game ended, Merle stood up, collecting the beer cans and stretching his back. Then he stepped toward Maggie and clapped a hand on her shoulder. She almost jumped under the sudden weight of it.

“Maggie, you’re my girl. Nothing can change that. But people ‘round here are willfully stupid, and sometimes they don’t appreciate people who are different. Like me ’n your mom,” he grunted. 

Maggie knew her parents’ marriage had raised eyebrows, since Merle was white and Elisa wasn’t. But it wasn’t the same as Maggie being gay. 

“It’s probably best if we just keep this between us for now.”

Maggie blinked at him, heart sinking. 

He must have seen, because he said, “I’m not ashamed of you. Never have been, never could be. But I wouldn’t want some idiot who doesn’t know his ass from his elbow to cause you trouble.”

Maggie kept blinking, frozen for a minute before she could respond.

“Yeah, I know,” she said, trying not to sound discouraged. “I’m planning to get out of here and go to college anyway.”

Merle gave her an approving nod. “That’s my girl.”

* * *

Maggie never told Talia. She felt like Talia should just know. But Talia didn’t, and instead, Maggie pined in her quiet way. She was patient with every bland jock and farm boy Talia prattled on and on about. She helped Talia pick out clothes to go on dates with them. She hoped her constancy would count for something. Not that she actually thought Talia felt for her the way she felt for Talia. She knew, on a practical level, that wouldn't happen.

But hope, in all its foolish persistence, was the thing that always told her the water was deep enough, the cliff smaller than it looked. She stayed at Talia's side without saying anything, as though her loyalty could override the way Talia was built.

But Talia was built to like boys no matter how faithful and sweet Maggie was.

Maggie taught herself to settle for late-night phone calls after Talia's dates. She listened in rapt attention as Talia gave her a play-by-play, imagining it had been her at the movies or bowling alley with Talia. It was easy to imagine, since they'd done those things together countless times. But they hadn't been dates. She hadn't picked Talia up at her house, opened the car door for her, offered to pay without Talia owing her next time. She hadn't taken Talia to the fancy restaurant in Beatrice where the dishes were over ten dollars. 

Maggie wanted all those things with Talia, even though she'd had them in another form.

Perhaps that was why Maggie stuck around after she graduated. She’d looked at a few state schools, but she wasn’t ready to leave Blue Springs. She would eventually, she knew. But she wanted to make sure Petey was doing okay, wanted to make sure her dad was doing okay, and most of all, she wasn’t ready to leave Talia. So she enrolled at Southeast Community College in Lincoln and crammed all her classes into two days a week. The rest of the time she worked at Superfoods and played with Tucker and Petey and little Anastasia, who was running around now, babbling and crying the way Petey never had.

That spring Talia started going with a guy named Josh who lived in one of the townships on the edge of Gage County. They'd met at a church mixer Talia's mother had forced her to go to. Josh was nothing special that Maggie could see, but Talia seemed more enthusiastic about him than most of the others, telling Maggie over and over that Josh had already finished a year at SCC and "had big plans for his future." Maggie just gave her a forced smile and thought about her own plans. 

When Talia invited Maggie out with her and Josh one night, Maggie accepted perhaps too eagerly. She didn't think through how it might be to sit beside them as they made flirty faces at each other, how she'd want to slap Josh's hand out of Talia's if he took it. No guy was good enough for Talia. Only she knew what Talia deserved. It didn't even have to be her. It just had to be someone better than Josh.

Except she knew she wanted it to be her.

They went to a diner in Crete and Talia and Josh split an entree, Talia just picking at the fries and eating the iceberg lettuce Josh pulled off his burger. Maggie ate her pizza and cole slaw without contributing much to the conversation, observing. They were so absorbed in each other, she felt invisible. Especially to Talia. It was Josh would would sometimes perk up and half-heartedly ask Maggie a question about herself, to which Maggie would give a short answer.

After dinner Josh suggested they go break into the hot tub at the golf club in Lincoln. Talia seemed enthusiastic, giggling with bright eyes as she agreed. But Maggie wasn't so sure. She liked swimming, but breaking in anywhere just to use a hot tub sounded stupid and she didn’t have a suit. But she went along with it because Talia wanted to, stripping down to her underwear and pretending not to be weirded out by Josh’s tidy whities.

She soon realized it had been a terrible idea to go along with them. She was used to feeling like a third wheel, but this was different. As Talia and Josh made out right next to her, Maggie boiled. The steam from the hot tub enveloped her, and she wished it would absorb her and carry her away from her supposed best friend and the guy of the moment. She hated this, hated having to witness the degree to which Talia would never notice her. 

She realized, in that moment, that she had to get out. Out of the hot tub, out of the way things were with Talia, out of Gage County. She had to get far, far away, to a place where there were girls who might actually see her if they looked at her. A place where maybe someday a girl would like her as much as she liked Talia. 

Maggie looked through the steam, trying to block out Talia as best she could, and imagined what that girl might be like. Maggie wondered what her hair would look like, what her smile would feel like, what her laugh would sound like. As long as she looked at Maggie and really saw her, she would be perfect. Maggie tried to send out a thought to that girl: _Wherever you are, I'm coming. Wait for me._

The first step was getting out of the hot tub. 

She sloshed out, pushing the excess water out of the fabric of her bra. 

She’d jumped off a cliff for a girl who would never love her back. Now it was time to jump off another. But this time she’d do it for herself. 


	2. Firsts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> College Maggie gives me feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be sure to check out Alex's story too. "And Still The World Spins"
> 
> Thanks to my beta @youreterriblemuriel

 

Maggie hesitantly looked into the classroom where the university LGBT group was supposed to be meeting. Sure enough, there was a circle of folding chairs, mostly filled, a table with a few snacks, and a striking woman with spiky blonde hair and combat boots standing by a whiteboard writing furiously. 

Maggie looked down at her watch. She hadn’t realized there was an agenda or schedule to the meeting. She’d shown up twenty minutes late so she could slip in undetected and observe the other people, deciding whether or not she’d fit in. Not that she’d ever really fit in with a group of people before. But somewhere, folded up small and tucked away like a nice note from Miss Thompson, she still hoped.

The blonde woman’s eyes met hers, piercing before softening with a smile.

“Looking for Q-Space?”

Maggie stalled before nodding.

The woman smiled again, a little forced, and beckoned Maggie in. “Join us. We’re just talking about sending delegates to Queer Conference.”

Maggie walked cautiously in.

 “Have you been?”

Maggie wasn’t sure if the woman was asking if she’d been to Q-Space or Conference - whatever that was - but shook her head and took a seat on the edge of the room.

Maggie didn’t remember much of that first meeting. She was too busy looking around, wondering if any of the other students were as anxious about being there as she was. First she checked to see if there were any attractive girls. There were a few, but two were sitting draped together, obviously a couple, and the other spent the entire meeting drawing on her Converse, which Maggie thought was rude to the woman running the meeting. But Maggie wasn’t one to judge. She spent more time studying their haircuts and jewelry and facial expressions than actually listening herself. If anything they were talking about applied to her, she didn’t hear it.

The blonde woman commanded the room, smiling almost too wide, standing tall in her heavy boots, hand wielding the dry erase marker like a knife. She was the most confident woman Maggie had ever seen. She wasn’t exactly beautiful - there was a sharpness and intensity to her that overwhelmed - but she was fierce and alive in her own skin.

After what felt like hours, people stood and started socializing, pairing off into duos and clusters that seemed already established. Maggie didn’t know what to do; she didn’t know anyone, and she’d never approached a stranger in her life unless it was to ask where the bathroom was or if they had jumper cables. In Blue Springs there simply hadn’t been any strangers.

She slunk out of the room, relieved but oddly proud of herself. The next week when she went back she made sure to arrive on time, attracting less attention. She wasn’t as nervous, and the tall blonde woman smiled more genuinely at her. Maggie even forced herself to stick around after, eating a few crackers with cheese and having a cup of juice.

The tall woman came over to her and introduced herself. “I’m Whitney,” she said with a big smile.

“Maggie,” Maggie said, juggling her plate and cup to take Whitney’s hand.

“First year?” Whitney asked.

Maggie tipped her head. “Um- kind of. I’m a transfer. I did a year at community college.”

Whitney gave her a reassuring nod. “Keeps cost down,” she said understandingly. “Are you in the first year dorms?”

Maggie shook her head.

“Well, ain’t _that_ a relief,” Whitney said through one side of her mouth, followed by a wink.

Maggie gave a nervous laugh, trying to go along with Whitney’s joke but thinking, as she had so many times, that it might have been nice to be with all the other new students as they made friends on their hall. Instead she’d been placed in the sophomore dorms and paired with a girl from Austria who spent long hours talking solemnly on the phone in German. At first Maggie was fascinated by it - the sounds and the expressions of a language she hadn’t heard much of before - but now she just felt invisible.

“Do you know your major yet?” Whitney asked, reaching past Maggie to pick up a handful of carrots.

“Um- forensic psychology.”

“You any good with research stats?”

Maggie nodded, her most certain nod yet. If there was one thing she was confident in, it was her intellect.

“Hey, Chase!” Whitney called, gesturing to a lanky boy with wavy black hair and a gold ring in his ear. He shuffled over to them, eyebrows lifted at Whitney. “Didn’t you say you needed help with research stats?”

“ _Ugh_ ,” the guy said, rolling his eyes dramatically. “It’s killing me already and it’s only the fourth week of school.”

“Maggie here’s a whiz. Maybe she can help you.”

It wasn’t a suggestion so much as a solution Whitney had decided on for them. Maggie extended her hand and shook Chase’s, thinking this was part of the deal with Q-Space. The members helped each other out, which didn’t sound half bad to Maggie. So she met with him a few times, helping as best she could.

Still, there was a gnawing part of her that wanted something more than the hap-slap community Q-Space tried so hard to be. She’d known she was gay for years now. If anyone had asked, she would have told them. Not that anyone asked, of course. But she had hoped this group would help her take her gayness from the theoretical to the real. She’d never even kissed anyone. She had imagined another girl’s body against hers so many times, wondering if it would ever happen, praying it would soon, but thinking in her most insecure moments that it never would.

Perhaps it was this desperation that emboldened her after their pre-Thanksgiving meeting. Whitney had brought in a bigger spread this time, almost enough to constitute a meal, and Maggie had offered to come early and help her set it up. Maggie was taken with Whitney; her every move, every word, every decision rang of certainty and authenticity. Her sharpness, while sometimes intimidating, had the effect of making whomever she was talking to feel important and valued. Maggie loved being around her.

Once the meeting started, everyone had said what they were thankful for, going around the circle. Maggie had said she was thankful to be in college, thankful that her family was all healthy and safe, especially her little brother, and that everyone at Q-Space was there to share food and company. She didn’t say anything more personal; it just wasn’t her style. After the meeting ended, Maggie stayed to help Whitney clean up.

She wasn’t exactly sure how she ended up in Whitney’s room. She carried a box of something. She thought she’d just drop it off and go back to her room, but instead Whitney offered her a beer.

“You’re twenty-one, right?” Whitney asked with a subtle wink.

Maggie nodded, complicit in the lie, and accepted the beer.

They sat on Whitney’s bed, chatting about the evening and Whitney and the other delegates’ participation in the Conference. Maggie felt like she was only half there, listening and nodding as Whitney spun on about her plans for revolutionizing the campus bathrooms to all be gender neutral. This was a new concept to Maggie - she’d never met a trans person in Nebraska - but after she thought about it, it didn’t seem strange at all. In many ways she could relate; she’d been waiting her whole life to express on the outside what she’d known for so long on the inside.

And god, Maggie had never met someone more confident in who they were than Whitney. Strong, smart, authoritative, Whitney was a force. And here Maggie was, sitting on her bed, just a foot away, having a beer.

It had to be an invitation, right? Gay girls didn’t just invite other gay girls to their rooms for a drink, did they? Or maybe they did. But Whitney was looking at her with that intensity, that focus and validation, and Maggie felt the urge to do the most impulsive, reckless thing she’d ever done. More reckless than jumping off that cliff.

She set down her drink, reached forward, and brought her mouth to Whitney’s.

Whitney was stunned for a moment, then broke away, considering Maggie in a new light.

“You’ve got more balls than I thought.”

Maggie gave a nervous smile, every muscle tensed, waiting on Whitney’s next move.

“You really wanna do this?” Whitney asked with a hint of a grin.

Maggie’s whole body accelerated and she nodded, tipping forward into Whitney, ready to jump.

Whitney brought her hand up to Maggie’s face and kissed her back, enthusiastic this time. Amid their rising breath, Maggie felt their clothes coming off. She could scarcely register everything she felt; the firmness of Whitney’s hands, the warmth of her skin, the timbre of her panting and groaning. Maggie was lost, one feeling piling on top of another as Whitney pressed her back onto her sheets, ravishing her as Maggie tried to ravish back.

It was everything she’d dreamed of all those lonely nights in Nebraska. This was the start of the rest of her life: knowing what it felt like to be with a woman. She ran her hands all over Whitney, feeling her firmness and strength, grabbing her hair, stroking her shoulders, trying to remember everything Whitney did so she could replicate it. Whitney was generous with her, and she had only one recognizable thought, a constant, desperate chanting in her head: yes, yes, _yes_.

When she came, she was quiet, trained from all those years in her parents’ houses. But in that quietness was ecstasy like she’d never known. She felt a physical certainty of who she was, like she could finally claim her gayness. She’d always known she was a lesbian, but now she felt it in every corner of her body, every inch of skin. She was gay. Euphorically so.

She fumbled her way through touching Whitney, needing more guidance than she’d hoped. She mimicking every move and touch that had felt good when Whitney did it. She tried to figure out which noises meant Whitney liked something. But she was clumsy; she knocked their heads together not once but twice, accidentally jammed her hipbone into Whitney in a way that yielded an _Ow!_ , and she didn’t know what to do with Whitney’s breasts. They were so much bigger than her own, she felt like Whitney was somehow more woman than she was.

And then there was the matter of what to do with her fingers. After plenty of trial and error, she managed to figure out something that worked, and she was almost embarrassed at the volume of the noise Whitney let out. Whitney stilled her, panting through a smile. 

Then it was quiet and the whole world seemed to come to a standstill after spinning for however long they’d been going at it. Maggie wasn’t sure what to do now, or what this meant.

“Am I your first?” Whitney asked. She was uncharacteristically quiet and gentle.

Maggie felt heat creeping into her face as she nodded. She was embarrassed it had been so obvious.

Whitney patted her thigh before sitting up, reaching for her shirt. “You weren’t half bad, kiddo.”

It was meant to be comforting, but Maggie felt small and childish. Not exactly how she’d hoped to feel after her first time.

Still, by the time she dressed and walked back to her room, she felt quietly satisfied and proud of herself. She’d asked for what she wanted, and she’d gotten it. Every trembling, ecstatic moment of it.

The next few times she saw Whitney, she felt awkward. No one else in the world had seen her naked, after all. But as she watched Whitney lead the final few Q-Space meetings of the semester, she realized what she felt wasn’t attraction, really. Not in the physical sense, though Whitney was attractive in her own fierce way. But Maggie wasn’t heartbroken that their exchange had been a one time thing. It was cleaner that way. She didn’t have romantic feelings for Whitney.

Talia had been her first love, but not the a fiery, consuming sense some people spoke of love. Maggie didn't know if she was capable of loving in an infernal way. She'd rather things be like that leap off the cliff into the Gage County reservoir; that weightless, free feeling, the rush of adrenaline kicking up as she pushed off the cliff, then plummeting into clear, refreshing water and sputtering for breath, unable to contain the ensuing smile.

If she ever fell in love again, she hoped it would be like that.

Meanwhile, she looked to Whitney as a kind of elder or mentor. She digested everything Whitney said for days after and looked forward to whatever conversations they had. She was pained to hear Whitney’s coming out story: how she’d been disowned by her dad, exiled by her friends, sent to Christian “therapy” by her mom. Whitney was truly on her own, and Maggie realized how lucky she was to have gotten the reception she’d received from her parents. Her respect and anxious admiration for Whitney increased tenfold. 

So it was with utmost curiosity that Maggie responded to Whitney’s greeting after winter break. Maggie had arrived a few minutes early to Q-Space, as usual, and rather than be greeted with a hug or hello, Whitney simply said, “Kate’s back from her semester abroad.”

“Who’s Kate?”

Whitney gave her an impish smile. “She’s exactly what you need.”

Maggie looked at her, expecting more information, but Whitney only chuckled and wiped the dry-erase board clean.

Moments later, a tall, pale girl with magnificent, flowing red hair entered the room like a flurry of autumn leaves.

“Speak of the devil,” Whitney said, grinning wider.

“Hey, Whitters!” Kate said, slamming into Whitney for a hug.

Whitney grinned at Maggie over Kate’s shoulder. “She’s the only person allowed to call me that,” she said, as though warning Maggie not to get any ideas.

Kate turned around to see who Whitney was talking to.

Maggie felt her heart speed up to triple-time as she met the girl’s eyes, playful and intensely green and fiery as her hair. Maggie stopped breathing, captivated by how beautiful and strange this girl was.

“Kate, this is Maggie. She transferred in last semester. Maggie, this is Kate, our resident hell-raiser and lion tamer. She’s a junior.”

Kate turned fully toward Maggie, taking a few gentle steps, her flurry calm now. She extended a smooth, pale hand. “Kate,” she said in the sweetest, most beautiful voice Maggie had ever heard.

“Uh- Maggie,” Maggie managed, her hand limp in Kate’s.

“You two should hang out,” Whitney said with a shit-eating grin from over Kate’s shoulder. 

But Maggie didn’t see it because Maggie couldn’t see anything but Kate.

* * *

It wasn’t love at first sight. Maggie didn’t believe in that. But infatuation, definitely. Lust, absolutely. Lust that had both of them eager to jump into bed and meet in empty classrooms, fumbling and laughing and eventually finding their rhythm. Maggie got much, much better at sex. And after the sheets settled and their breathing steadied, love found its way in. Maggie could have listened to Kate talk about her studies abroad all day, could have let her heart bleed hearing Kate talk about getting kicked out of West Point for dating a girl, could have worked Kate’s fiery hair into infinite braids to keep Kate talking about philosophy and science and politics. Afternoons spent in each other's’ arms banished all the loneliness and differentness Maggie had felt in Blue Springs. Here was this girl, so alive, so vibrant, so different than her, yet such a kindred spirit. They both loved science and history and psychology, they both had an inner need for excitement and novelty, and they both had scars inflicted by the same weapon of otherness.

But most of all, Kate made her feel like that breath before the jump, the soaring through the air as her feet left the cliff. Everything was bright and gleaming and full of possibility.

“You have such pretty hair,” Kate told her one day. “Why do you always wear it back?”

Maggie started letting her hair down, realizing it didn’t make her different in a place like this. She started to love it because Kate loved it. She started to love all of herself because Kate loved her.

Kate was wilder than Maggie had realized at first; she lived every day as though there was a cliff to jump off. She taught Maggie how to ride a motorcycle, how to steal wine from the president’s dining room, how to jimmy the roof hatch open so they could sit on top of the dormitory drinking cheap beer and laughing into the early morning. She introduced Maggie to the Indigo Girls and k.d. Lang and a dozen other artists whose music and poetry and erotica had never made it to Blue Springs. Maggie absorbed it all, feeling happier and more in love every day.

It was heaven.

Maggie started to wonder if eventually she would forget where she stopped and Kate started, if they would fuse into one glowing, restless, profound mass of energy and love. She imagined so many things with Kate. Traveling the world, building careers, sharing that little apartment she'd dreamed of. 

For now, she was content to drown in curtains of red hair, knowing what it was to be loved.

But then they started fighting, Kate begging Maggie to come to parties with her, to meet new people, to experience college life to the fullest, and Maggie withdrawing, wanting to stay in and avoid the noise and people and obligatory dancing. Maggie worried Kate was skipping too many classes, flying so high on life she’d fall and not be able to get up. Kate rolled her eyes and tried to physically pry Maggie out of the dorm to some club or frat party or dance. “We’re only young once!” she kept saying. But Maggie didn’t feel the need to experience her youth the same way as Kate. Kate grew frustrated, and Maggie felt guilty. The scales tipped from mostly happy to mostly frightened.

Still, she wasn’t prepared for red to turn gray. Nothing prepared her for the devastation when it finally hit.

Kate wasn’t hers anymore. She looked around her room, looked down at her hands, looked at herself in the mirror, wondering if she was real, if the world could exist if she and Kate weren’t together and in love. They were still in love, weren’t they? They had to be. Nothing was real if she and Kate weren’t in love.

The tears came fast and hard. Maggie had never felt this desperate to escape, this lost and out of control. She sat sobbing with her knees pulled to her chest until her roommate walked in, then she darted out the door, head down, curtaining herself off from the world with her hair as she ran, inexplicably, toward Whitney.

Whitney opened the door with a look of confusion followed by sad understanding.

“Maggie…” she cooed, shepherding her inside.

Maggie looked at the bed with the same sheets she’d laid in once. It seemed so insignificant now. Nothing was significant without Kate.

“What happened?” Whitney asked.

Maggie shook her head and sniffled for a minute, embarrassed to be so emotional in front of such a force as Whitney.

She couldn’t bring herself to say it out loud. Saying she and Kate had broken up would make it real. But from the look on Whitney’s face, she already knew. Maybe she’d known before Maggie knew.

Maggie shuddered and thought of everything Kate had ever asked of her, all the things Kate wanted her to be that she wasn’t.

And for the first time she realized why she’d been drawn to Whitney: above all, she admired her for her confidence and bravery.

“Show me how to be brave,” Maggie heard herself saying. If she hadn’t been so unraveled, she would have been embarrassed. “I can’t-- I’m not strong. I don’t know how to be like you.”

Whitney’s face softened from its usual sharp attention into a pained look of compassion.

“Maggie, you’re already brave.”

Maggie shook her head, hair waving against her face as she looked down at the chipped tile floor.

“You are,” Whitney said. “You made the first move on _me_ , remember?"

Maggie let out a little gasp, embarrassed about how that had ended. They hadn’t talked about it since. But it was nice to know Whitney remembered.

Whitney motioned for Maggie to sit in her desk chair, and Maggie did, tucking her arms against her stomach as she sat hunched over.

Whitney crouched in front of her, looking up through her hair as though trying to coax her out.

“Loving someone is an act of courage. And yeah, sometimes you get hurt. But it’s better than pushing everyone away.”

Maggie hugged herself tighter, thinking that pushing everyone away sounded pretty good right now.

And yet for some reason she’d sought out Whitney.

“I don’t know how I’m gonna face her,” Maggie squeaked. “We have classes… and all of next semester…” She trailed off, realizing she would have to endure an entire year on campus alone after Kate graduated. Somehow that seemed worse than being broken up and near each other.

“It’ll be hard,” Whitney said. “But you’re _strong_ , Maggie.”

Maggie shook her head, gasping for breath through tears.

“Look at everything you’ve done. You got yourself out of Nebraska, and not just anywhere. You got in _here_ , which is no small thing. Not for any of us. And you’ve always known who you are. _That’s_ courage.”

Maggie heard what Whitney was saying, but it felt like she was talking about someone else.

Whitney looked up at her, and Maggie could almost feel the pity radiating off her.

Whitney got up and went to her closet, rummaging for a minute, taking out a leather jacket. She examined it, checking the tag before walking back over to Maggie and draping it over her shoulders.

“My step-sister left this here when she visited last month. It’s yours now. It’s your armor. When you wear it, you can be as brave and strong as you need to be.”

Maggie sniffled, arguing for a moment that Whitney should give it back to her sister or keep it for herself, but Whitney insisted. And as Maggie tentatively touched the leather, felt its soft toughness, she felt something calm inside her. The jacket couldn’t fix the gaping hole in her chest, or the river of tears flowing down her face, but she felt a little less vulnerable, a little less likely to blow over in a breeze.

She wore the jacket every day for the next week. It was good armor as she braved the cafeteria and classes where she knew she’d have to face Kate. Soon it became a part of her, a second skin. The only one that Kate hadn’t touched.

She still succumbed to fits of crying, but only in her room alone. Sometimes she felt she was storing up all her tears during the day, and letting them out at night. Gradually her tears became less and less, until one evening she realized she hadn’t cried in two days, then five, and by the time Kate graduated, she was at peace. Still sad, still wondering if love was real, but not in agony.

And then the strangest thing happened. In her senior year, one of the younger girls in Q-Space, Emma, started coming to her for advice, hanging around, staring at her in a lovesick, moony-eyed way. Maggie felt too young, too new in her own skin to be a mentor or inspiration to anyone.

But then she looked at Emma, so anxious and unsure, and saw a reflection of her former self. She wasn’t that girl anymore. Emma never made a pass at her -- Emma wasn’t quite the adrenaline junkie Maggie could be -- but Maggie was pretty sure she would have if she’d had the courage. Emma’s adoration was a strange, new kind of flattery, one that she couldn’t resist.

And so, even though Maggie knew it probably wasn’t a good idea, they started sleeping together. Emma was safe, in her way. Maggie didn’t worry Emma would crush her like Kate had.

She was gracious with Emma, honored to mentor her, hoping she was even gentler than Whitney had been. She enjoyed Emma’s company to an extent, and liked that Emma was quieter and more interested in staying in on the weekends than going out. But Maggie didn’t feel for Emma the way she’d felt for Kate or Whitney. There was no fiery, consuming urge to spend every waking minute with her. But she did like her.

Maybe this was what real adult relationships were like. Maybe she’d matured.

But then Emma started wanting more and more of her time, never satisfied with the attention Maggie gave her. Maggie tried not to get frustrated with her, but she was trying to balance the rest of her senior year with figuring out her next steps. She found herself growing resentful of Emma. In return, Emma became weepy and pleading and wanted Maggie to hold her hand through every little thing.

Was this what she’d been like with Kate? Always begging for more time, to keep her all to herself, to be the sole, precious thing in Kate’s life? If so, she understood why Kate had tired of her. It was exhausting to be someone’s everything.

It was only toward the end of the year she realized Emma was in love with her. She didn’t love Emma back, and she felt guilty and stressed out about it. She thought they’d just been enjoying each other’s company while Emma got used to being gay. She never meant for it to be anything substantial. She had no idea what to do; she didn’t want to do what Kate had done to her. She couldn’t just dump her or tell her she didn’t love her. It was too cruel.

So instead she simply let graduation approach. Emma grew weepier and more tearful every day, until finally Maggie decided she had to just rip the bandaid off. She hugged Emma and told her she was braver and stronger than she knew, and left Emma the jacket Whitney had given her, using her graduation money to buy herself a new one.

Then she got on a plane to California, knowing she wouldn’t see Emma again. She had other cliffs to jump off now.


	3. The Beat

Maggie didn’t consider other options besides the police academy. She’d gone to college because she was the first in her family to have that option, but she’d known she wanted to be a cop since that day in Walmart with Petey. She wasn’t going to waste any more time.

Her time at the academy flew by. She’d never been so invigorated by what she was learning, never so eager to prove herself. She ignored the belittling snickers of the men twice her size who thought they’d outperform her. She may have been small with a voice to match, but she was scrappy and had more determination than they did. She kept her mouth shut and proved to her instructors she could do it, and at the end of six months, she was given a field assignment and a uniform. 

Maggie looked in the mirror at herself in her crisp new uniform. She looked good. She was still getting the hang of the tie, and thankfully she didn’t have to wear it all the time, but as she took in her reflection, she was proud of herself. Proud in a way that was different than her reckless jumping off cliffs and kissing girls she had no business kissing. She’d earned this over time.

She took a picture and sent it to Whitney, who responded with  _ Damn, girl, you’re gonna be fending off girls with that baton. _

_ Not an appropriate use of force _ , Maggie wrote back with a chuckle.  _ But I hope you’re right. _

Something had happened during her time in the police academy. Nothing major. Just a shift. She’d started thinking about dating in earnest again. She wasn’t looking to have her heart trampled again, but she’d had enough distance from the agony of losing Kate that she was starting to forget. Perhaps it was foolish, but her desire to feel close to someone was starting to win out over her fear. Besides, she felt like more of a grownup now, and grownups didn’t make silly mistakes like falling in love with someone as wild and fundamentally different from her as Kate.

At the end of her first week in the field, Maggie went to a girl bar. She didn’t wear her uniform because that felt blatantly manipulative. But when the drink she sent over to a pretty blonde girl across the room was well received, Maggie didn’t hesitate to mention she was a cop. 

As it turned out, Whitney had been right. Girls did find her profession attractive. 

The girl’s name was Jillian, and she was as sweet as Maggie could have hoped for. They started dating, and it was easy and sweet. They went to movies, they went out to dinner, and they did dorky things like go bowling and roller skating and park near the airport and watch planes take off. Jillian took her to the ballet and theater and art galleries and all kinds of things Maggie had never done before. They had passionate, intense sex at all hours of the day and night. Maggie felt like she was getting a do-over on Kate; she felt all the joy and hopefulness of that first love, but there was nothing torrential or threatening about it. She felt fully domesticated, and the dinners Jillian cooked her and the baths they took together and the lazy mornings they spent in bed together after a night of amazing sex nourished her. 

Maggie knew it was ironic that Jillian was the one to finally get her out to a club on lesbian night. Maggie discovered the thing she’d resisted so hard in college wasn’t actually so bad. She wasn’t too keen on dancing, but after a few drinks she was more than happy to wrap her limbs around Jillian and sway, lips running over Jillian’s neck and ear, lost in the current of the bass and the buzzing energy around them. Seeing so many beautiful girls dancing nearby and knowing she had the best one made Maggie feel proud and more than a little smug.

Jillian was a first grade teacher just outside the city limits. She worked the same schedule every day, had nights and weekends off, and plenty of vacation time around Christmas and summer. Maggie, meanwhile, was still on her probationary assignment, being put through her rookie paces, given the worst shifts and the lamest calls, trying to fill ticket quotas without being a jerk or a pushover. It was harder than she expected. She didn’t have a thick skin yet, and sometimes the only thing that got her through a rough call was knowing she would see Jillian later that day.

Maggie was delighted when Jillian asked her to come speak to her first graders for career day. She arranged her schedule so she could be there and made sure to leave her gun in her safe that morning. She loved talking to kids about her job, watching their wide eyes and answering their questions. She let the kids hold her badge and look at some of the items in her utility belt as she explained why she wanted to be a cop: it was about the people. Protecting people, making sure they understood what was and wasn’t safe, stopping people from hurting themselves and each other. She didn’t say anything about Petey, but people like Petey were always on Maggie’s mind when she was on patrol. Jillian sat in the back of the classroom beaming at her, and Maggie smiled equally bright back, loving this thing they had. They both had an unwavering desire to do good in the world, and that made loving Jillian as easy as breathing.

That night she asked Jillian to move in, and a few weeks later they were living together, which meant Jillian saw lots more of Maggie in her uniform.

At first Maggie was entertained by how much Jillian loved her in her uniform. She played along with it for a while, offering a few half-hearted entendres about Jillian having the right to remain silent, that anything she said could and would be used against her in bed. But she drew the line at using her handcuffs or any of the other gear in her utility belt. Those were her work tools, and most of the time when she used them, she was dealing with people who were a threat. Jillian wasn’t a threat. Jillian was the opposite of a threat. When Jillian pushed the issue and Maggie tried again and again to explain, she started to realize Jillian didn’t understand what her job entailed.

Still, they were happy. Jillian made Maggie laugh like crazy, cooked like a dream, and kept their apartment tidy and homey. It was the first time since she’d moved out of Nebraska Maggie felt like the place she lived was a home. She learned to do all the things that were required to sustain a relationship: she listened more than she talked, she apologized as soon as she realized she was wrong, she brought home flowers and wine for no reason other than she was thinking of Jillian, and she never forgot to tell Jillian how much she loved her. And in return, Jillian made her feel like the most loved girl on the planet.

Maggie didn’t think she would have made it through her first year on the force without Jillian to come home to. She was proud of where they were and what they were building. At only twenty-four, she had that dream that had felt so far away just a few years ago. She had a sweet little apartment with a big soft bed and beautiful girl to hold in it.

She even brought Jillian home to Blue Springs for Christmas, and her family was delighted to see Maggie so happy. Elisa regarded her kindly, ten-year-old Ana wanted to do her hair, and fifteen-year-old Petey made eye contact and stumbled through some polite greetings he’d been working on at his special day program. Even Merle said Jillian seemed like “a very nice girl.”

And it was true. Jillian was a very nice girl.

The problem was that this nice girl eventually started to realize Maggie didn’t just wear a cop uniform. She was an actual cop, sent to actual crime scenes, where her actual life was occasionally in danger. Maggie got home at the crack of dawn, hours after her shift was supposed to be over, after an intense and lengthy stand-off with an intoxicated, potentially psychotic man with a gun who had shot his dog and beaten his wife within an inch of her life. Maggie felt simultaneously buzzed and exhausted from the horror and thrill of it, and was looking forward to a hot shower. But Jillian was sitting on the couch with the light on, looking both angry and terrified. 

Maggie didn’t have the energy to comfort her. All she wanted to do was shower and crawl into bed, throwing her arm over Jillian’s warm, sleeping body, knowing their home would never have that kind of violence in it. But Jillian wasn’t sleeping. She was standing in the living room demanding an explanation. Maggie gave her a general description of what had happened and moved toward the bathroom.

When Jillian paled and asked Maggie what she’d been thinking running into that situation, Maggie frowned. 

“I’m a cop,” Maggie said. “Dealing with dangerous people is part of my job.”

Jillian seemed both offended and disbelieving, and it was all Maggie could do to not roll her eyes as she unbuttoned her shirt and walked into the bathroom. 

Jillian rushed after her, apologetic, trying to take Maggie’s uniform off for her, as though trying to strip Maggie of something greater. She stepped into the shower with her, washing her with too eager hands. 

Maggie tolerated it, but she wasn’t in the mood for Jillian’s anxious affection. She might have been if it had truly been selfless. But she knew Jillian didn’t understand.

Things slowly started getting worse. When Maggie was put on night shift for a month and they were operating on opposite schedules, Jillian started complaining that they never went out anymore and that they barely had sex. Even though she was exhausted, Maggie pushed her back on the bed and fucked her more assertively than usual. But that only appeased Jillian for a few days.

Then Maggie got injured. Nothing major, just a few cuts and bruises and a nasty burn on her thigh, and Jillian flipped. She was in such distress she didn’t want to have sex anymore, despite Maggie assuring her she was fine and ready whenever Jillian wanted to go. But Jillian just wept and begged Maggie to stay with her whenever they happened to be home at the same time.

Things were falling apart, and Maggie knew what was coming.

She tried to take Jillian out to do nice things. She brought her flowers and picked up her favorite takeout since Jillian wasn’t as interested in cooking lately. She encouraged Jillian to go out with friends on the nights Maggie worked, and when they were home, she tried to press reminders of the sweetness between them into Jillian’s lips and shoulders and brush it into her hair. 

Then a member of Maggie’s department was killed in the line of duty. 

It was devastating for everyone on the force, and a heavy, dark cloud settled over Maggie’s life. She’d known the risks of her job, but it hadn’t been real until now. A man she’d worked with for a year, shared a cruiser with while his was in the shop, gone to for guidance more than occasionally, was dead. 

She could be next. 

And though it was sobering, it only strengthened her willingness to sacrifice and to serve and protect. 

But Jillian was not willing to make that sacrifice. When Maggie got home from the funeral, still in her dress regalia, Jillian was sitting on the couch with a glass of scotch she had poured from the bottle the dead man had given Maggie for Christmas. Jillian never drank anything harder than wine, and Maggie felt realization settle in her stomach like a rock.

She stood still, waiting for the blow.

“I can’t do this,” Jillian said. She was no longer fretful, not longer panicked. She was vacant and resigned. 

Maggie knew there was no use in trying to persuade her to keep trying. She’d already given up.

They didn’t have an immediate solution to their living situation. Jillian couldn’t afford her own place on her teaching salary, and Maggie had spent her last few months’ hazard pay on a bike, ironically, which had been another point of contention between them. As they divided their belongings and Maggie took up residence on the couch, their differences started to stack up.

She vowed to never move in with a girl again until they’d been together for years and she was certain she wanted to marry her. But she couldn’t imagine loving anyone as much as she loved Jillian, and how could she marry someone who didn’t love the part of her she was proudest of?

Maggie felt a hardening around her when Jillian finally moved out. As fall turned to winter and she had to start scraping ice off her cruiser in the morning, she felt the same numbness inside. She no longer needed her leather jacket to protect her. Her own skin did that just fine, and her badge didn’t hurt. People called her “ma’am” and moved aside as she walked down the sidewalk. She’d acquired the necessary thick skin to do her job. Homicide, domestic violence, child abuse, animal abuse, and rape calls didn’t haunt her the way they had at first. The only thing that ever seemed to cut through her hardness reliably was liquor, which she only resorted to on occasions when she knew she needed to cry so it wouldn’t happen while she was on duty. 

She needed that hardness as she worked her way through her third year on the force. After a poorly executed bust left her partner vulnerable to an active shooter, Maggie was assigned desk duty for two weeks. Thankfully her partner was okay, and she took the punishment with a cool, collected composure. But inside she railed against herself for being so stupid. Between all her bad luck with Kate and Jillian, she was starting to doubt she was capable of making anything last more than a few months when another person was involved.

She started hanging out with her colleagues more off the clock, curious if they’d figured out how to make relationships work. She was surprised to learn almost all of them had at least one divorce under their belt. When she asked why, the other lesbian in her department, a black woman twenty years her senior, shrugged as though it was obvious.

“We’re only built to have one family,” she said between sips of beer. “Blue family comes first.”

It made sense; given the choice between Jillian and the police department, Maggie had chosen the police department, and Jillian had felt cheated out of what they could have had. Maggie felt cheated out of it too, but given the choice again, she wouldn’t have changed her decision.

Maybe Maggie just wasn’t meant to be with someone.

When she got home that night, she poured herself a shot to cut through her hardness. When she was able to feel, she realized how sad she still was that things hadn’t worked out with Jillian, sad that the most important thing to her was the thing Jillian hadn’t loved. Whitney may have been right that girls liked her badge, but they didn’t like the actual work she put into deserving it.

Rather than fall into despair, she threw herself into her work. She took on more cases, accepted whatever assignments she was given, and offered to help her colleagues as best she could. She enrolled in extra trainings to improve her performance, studying more advanced criminology and perfecting her enforcement techniques, took classes in unarmed combat, and worked on her marksmanship. She trained harder than ever in the precinct gym, sculpting herself into someone who looked almost as impervious as she felt. 

She knew she could have attracted many a girl with the draw of her uniform, but she didn’t want to. She met girls in bars but rarely mentioned she was a cop, giving out her number even less often. When she brought girls back to her place, she made sure they knew it was a one night thing. Sex worked better than whiskey to help her unwind without giving her a headache the next day.

It was simple and cathartic most of the time. Maggie noticed that she was louder now than she used to be, more relaxed and engaged. Not that she hadn’t been relaxed and engaged with Jillian. But it was different when there were no stakes.

* * *

By the end of her fourth year on the force, she was promoted to Police III. Her sergeant commended her dedication and told her, to her surprise, that she would be presented with the Police Medal for Heroism at the next departmental awards ceremony. Something about the way she’d handled a very strange call lately. She’d shown up to a scene and found a hysterical teenager and the body of a man with what appeared to be gills on his neck. She hadn’t thought much of the call, but apparently the higher-ups thought her response warranted a medal.

“You’ve come a long way, Sawyer. You have a gift for talking to people and diffusing tense situations. I hope you’re considering your options once you complete a year of Police III,” he said genially. 

She stayed composed, thanking him and promising to continue serving as best she could.

But his comments got her thinking about what she wanted next. She knew after five years on the force she would be eligible for promotion to Sergeant or Detective. Somehow she hadn’t realized those five years were almost over.

At the awards ceremony a month later, Maggie sat with her sergeant at a long table with the Chief of Police and other high ranking officers. She felt so young and inexperienced compared to them. They had medals and badges dripping off their uniforms, and she had only one insignia and her new medal, which supposedly identified her as brave. She’d never felt brave. She’d only run headlong into things that scared her. She was more careful now than when she’d run off that cliff at fifteen. But that wasn’t bravery. In most ways it was downright foolish. 

But as she sat there, Maggie realized that so many of the choices she’d made and the people she’d cared about had been acts of courage. Coming out. Leaving home. Kissing girls she wasn’t sure would kiss her back. Loving Kate and Jillian. Joining the force. Soldiering on when her heart was broken. 

Maybe Whitney had been right all those years ago. Maybe she really was brave.

* * *

Maggie had just gotten off her shift and was still in her police uniform when she swung by the local Safeway to pick up something for dinner. She was about to get in line with her sandwich and Pepsi when there was a crashing and shrieking coming from the back of the store. Customers' heads jerked up and they looked at each other nervously. Everything was quiet, save for the echoing sound of an in-store advertisement advising shoppers to  _ Check out our fresh baked bread in the bakery department!  _ A moment later another shriek sounded through the store, followed by the clattering of what sounded like a rack of shelves.

Customers crept toward the doors, looking back over their shoulders, wary. But Maggie, always looking for the next rush of adventure and opportunity to serve, set her items down on a magazine rack and walked toward the noise. 

Then, a sound unlike anything she'd heard rang through the store, as though it was broadcast through the speakers, and though it didn't make sense, Maggie swore the lights dimmed for a second before there was another crash.

Maggie picked up her pace, ears perked to determine the exact location of the sound. She had figured it was from the back left corner, somewhere between the dairy case and the bakery. When another cry rose up and a man wearing a bloody white apron came running toward her, Maggie grabbed at her radio, alerting the dispatcher that something was happening, giving the police code for an unknown disturbance and the address of the store.

Maggie was relieved when she realized the man in the bloody apron was a butcher, but she was still on high alert, looking for signs that she should wait for backup. She listened carefully as she walked to the end of the aisle, peering around with her hand on her belt, not directly on her gun but near it.

She found herself looking at the meat counter, one of its refrigerated cases smashed, the shatter-resistant glass in a sheet of drooping crystal over trays of ground turkey and pork chops. She couldn't see much behind the counter, but she walked carefully toward it and peered over the glass.

The meat slicer had been shoved off the table, a few empty metal trays flung to the ground. She looked for signs of struggle or altercation between customers or employees, but had a hard time discerning what had happened given the expected presence of animal blood.

Then she heard a whimpering and a moaning behind the counter and stilled, listening for danger, hand inching toward her gun. When all she heard was more whimpering and some indiscernible mumbling, she peered around the counter and saw a strange, frazzled man huddled against the back of the counter, clutching a whole raw chicken to his chest with one hand and rocking.

A question from the dispatcher crackled through on her radio and Maggie stepped back to respond as quietly as she could, indicating she suspected this to be a psychiatric case and to have paramedics on standby. The dispatcher indicated she'd heard and crackled out. 

Maggie studied the man, wearing a strange kind of robe with a pointed collar. He didn't wear shoes, only socks made of some kind of steely wool. When he saw her, his eyes flared, and he started mumbling more, his voice rising until he was almost yelling at her. 

Maggie backed up, recognizing that he saw her as a threat. Towering over him in her uniform with her gun, she probably looked like one. She quickly gauged whether he was dangerous - erratic, sure, but he was shaking hard and clutching the raw chicken so tightly, Maggie thought it was unlikely he'd lash out unless she did something to scare him.

"Hey, buddy," Maggie said softly, crouching down a safe distance away. "What's going on?"

The man's voice quieted again, though his lips kept moving in mumbled phrases Maggie couldn't understand. His fingers splayed over the chicken and he hiked it up his chest an inch.

Maggie stayed crouched, wanting to establish herself as a non-threat so she could figure out what was going on. She stayed there for a few minutes, trying to decide what the next move was, or if she should even try to make one before backup arrived.

Then, seemingly unprompted, the man's eyes widened and he lifted his concealed hand, revealing a knife. Actually, it was more like a handful of knives, or… a hand of knives. Like Freddie Kreuger or Edward Scissorhands.

Maggie didn't understand why he'd suddenly reacted. But then she heard someone gasp behind her and realized there were onlookers that had spooked him. 

Maggie turned around, staying crouched, and said, “Clear the store."

The customers obeyed, and the terrified employees looked relieved that they wouldn't have to deal with the customer themselves. 

Maggie wasn't sure what to do. The man hadn't moved yet, and she wanted to get him away from the meat case so he’d be ready when the ambulance came. Then she saw the smashed meat display and got an idea. She reached in and picked up a turkey and held it out to the man. She didn’t approach, but she wanted to make a gesture to indicate she wasn’t a threat.

The man looked at her and the raw turkey, puzzled. Then his hand shifted and the knives disappeared, as though swallowed by his own fingertips. She blinked in confusion, trying not to let her face contort. How long had she been awake? Was she seeing things? Did she need to take some leave and get her head on straight?

Before she could decide what to do, the man crawled forward and accepted the turkey, holding it against his chest with the chicken as though they were long lost children. He was close enough that Maggie could cuff him.

She knew the protocol for dangerous cases like this. He needed to be on the floor, her knee on his back with only as much weight as necessary to make sure he didn’t jump up and hurt her. But she didn’t want to make any sudden movements or demands. She let him sit with the chicken and turkey for a minute before she started talking to him, gentle and low like she would talk to Petey after one of his tantrums.

“Hey, buddy. Looks like things are a little rough right now. I want to help you, but I need you to cooperate so no one gets hurt.”

The man didn’t look at her, and Maggie wasn’t sure if he understood.

“Can you lie down on the floor for me?”

The man still didn’t make eye contact, but he slowly lowered the poultry to the floor, then lay down as though it were a relief, like he was tired of fighting. Maggie was stunned; usually psych calls like this didn’t go so easily. He lay there for at least ten seconds before she moved toward him, wanting to make sure there was nothing he could do to hurt her.

“I’m going to put your hands together. Can you hold them behind you for me?”

The man obeyed, and Maggie thought she heard a noise like whimper.

She took her cuffs out of her belt and slowly, cautiously clipped them around his wrists, careful not to touch him more than necessary. She took a closer look at his hands and saw his fingers were silver-tipped and looked almost mechanical. She felt a shiver run through her even though he was lying facedown, not fighting her.

“Good,” Maggie said as she stood up, putting some more distance between them just to be safe.

She looked over her shoulder, hoping the ambulance would be there shortly. But the store was deserted, save for a few people still shuffling out the door.

The man lay there listless for a full minute before Maggie realized she hadn’t read him his rights. The scene was so eerily peaceful and strange, it didn’t feel like a normal arrest. As she recited the words she’d said hundreds of times, they felt more like something meant to soothe or absolve him of fear. 

Then it was still and calm for a full five minutes, save for the overhead music and advertisements playing and the hum of the deli cases.

When backup arrived five minutes later, they blew in noisily, disrupting the calm that had settled over everything. Maggie stood and held her hands up, signaling to approach cautiously and quietly. But rather than members of her department, she saw swath of officers she’d never seen before with insignia she didn’t recognize. They swarmed around the man, gruff and jerky, pulling him off the floor and hustling him toward the door. 

Maggie was alarmed and didn’t know what was happening. She’d called for backup, but this wasn’t what typically happened. She yelled for them to stop, but they rushed the man out the door. She caught one officer who lagged behind and asked him what was happening, why they weren’t following protocol.

“Don’t worry, ma’am,” he said. “We got ways to lock up metahumans now.”

“Meta — what?” Maggie asked. She felt like she was losing her mind.

One of the other officers called out for his buddy to keep up and the man rushed away, leaving Maggie alone in the chilly fluorescent light, feeling like maybe she was the one who ought to be taken to the psych ward.

She stood there for a few minutes, absurdly alone in an abandoned crime scene. After five minutes her sergeant arrived and told her she’d done well and could go home. She opened her mouth to object, to ask about paperwork and photo documentation, but thought better of it. She was clearly having some kind of break and shouldn’t make a fool of herself.

On the way out she found her sandwich and Pepsi right where she left them. She took them and drove home, only vaguely aware of her surroundings.

She had just finished her sandwich and was debating between watching another episode of  _ American Ninja Warrior _ and going to bed when there was a sharp knock on her door. She froze, wondering if she should answer. It could be someone here to take her badge away or take her to the psych ward or something.

“Officer Sawyer, we know you’re in there,” came a stern male voice.

Maggie cringed and got up, opening the door to reveal three uniforms, all looking at her intently.

Her heart raced and she cleared her throat, trying to project sanity and competence as best she could.

The older black man who had knocked gave her a businesslike smile. “May we come in?”

Normally Maggie would never have let strange men into her apartment, but these were uniforms and they were only asking as a formality.

They strode inside, towering over her, and she stood straight and tall, shoulders back, hoping her anxiety didn’t show. 

“Detective Warren, Science Division,” the man said, extending a hand. Maggie shook it firmly as she’d learned to do with male colleagues, wondering what on earth the Science Division was. She’d never heard of it. 

“Officer Sawyer, sixth precinct.”

“We heard you had an interesting night,” Warren said.

Maggie nodded.

“You’ve probably got a few questions,” Warren said with a chuckle that felt belittling.

Maggie said nothing. She’d advised all her detainees to do the same and it felt apt. 

Warren leaned against the back of her couch and crossed his arms, at ease. “We’ve probably got more answers than you bargained for.”

He gestured to a chair and Maggie sat, wishing she hadn’t changed out of her uniform as quickly as she did. 

“You’ve probably never heard of us,” Warren said. “Science is the newest division in National City. It’s not exactly a secret, but we don’t go around broadcasting ourselves. We only handle select cases.”

He paused, waiting for an impressed reaction Maggie knew better than to give him.

“We formed as a response to a surge in the presence of extraterrestrial life in National City. Other metropolitan areas have formed similar divisions in recent years. But no one’s been hit quite as hard as we have.” 

He looked to his buddies for confirmation, and they chucked their heads back and shifted on their feet in response. Maggie felt like they were sizing her up just as all the recruits at the academy had. She was so committed to staying poker-faced, she didn’t even blink at the word  _ extraterrestrial _ .

But really, aliens? Were these men telling her there were  _ aliens _ in National City?

Her lack of response seemed to both impress and frustrate the officers. 

“We heard what happened tonight, how you handled that metahuman. We wanted to talk to you about transferring departments. See if you have any interest in putting your skills to special use.”

Maggie had intentionally gotten rid of most of her telltale tics, but she still sometimes brought her fingers up to her chin when she was confused or anxious about something. She rubbed at the little crease there, wondering what the best response would be.

“We know this is a lot to take in. But we’ve seen your file and we think you’d be a good fit. Your sergeant recommended you because of your background and reputation.”

“My reputation?” Maggie said, bristling.

“For being compassionate with civilians in distress and excellent performance on psych calls. We need someone with that skill set.”

“For the  _ science _ division,” Maggie clarified. Her skills were in marksmanship and psychology, not science.

“Didn’t you major in forensic psychology?” Detective Warren asked.

Maggie nodded.

“And you took a handful of biology and chemistry classes in college, right?”

Maggie narrowed her eyes, suspicious. Why did they have so much information about her?

“The Science Division is very thorough in vetting recruits before we approach them. The way you handled the metahuman tonight was all the confirmation we needed that you’d be a good fit.”

“I’m sorry, what did you call the detainee?”

“Metahuman,” Warren said. “People that aren’t really… people. They’ve got strange features. Like the Freddy Kreuger hand you saw tonight.”

Maggie couldn’t help herself from squinting this time. Either Detective Warren was part of an elaborate hallucination, or she hadn’t been hallucinating at all.

“You’re not crazy,” Detective Warren assured her, holding up a hand and shaking his head to dismiss her thought. It sounded a little patronizing, but she let it go. “He tried to lash out once we got him in the paddy wagon. Showed his true colors, knives and all.”

Maggie thought of the uniforms who had busted in and hauled the frightened man away so brusquely after she’d gotten him calm and to a place where he didn’t resist her as she cuffed him. He seemed almost grateful before the science division had shown up, like he needed help. Kind of like Petey when he got worked up and needed to be soothed in ways only a few people understood.

“So these… metahumans? Is that what you called them?”

Detective Warren nodded. “That’s what we’re calling them for now, until we know what’s going on. Some people call them aliens. There seems to be a chemical aspect to some of their deformities. We’ve got ways of subduing them so we can study them further. We’ve got a special lockup they can’t break out of.”

Maggie didn’t like the way that sounded, but her curiosity and the flattery of being asked to join a special department overrode her objection to their methods. For now, at least.

“It’s probably best if you don’t tell anyone in your department about what happened tonight,” Detective Warren said. “We’ve been in touch with your sergeant and we’ll handle the paperwork. All we need you to do is come to precinct thirty-three tomorrow so we can give you a tour. What do you say?”

Maggie paused. She wasn’t sure what she was agreeing to, but so long as her sergeant had agreed to something, it should be clear. She nodded, figuring she’d check with him in the morning before she agreed to anything else.

Detective Warren gave a satisfied nod, extending his hand again.

“Wonderful to finally meet you, Officer Sawyer. I have a good feeling about this.”

The officers left and Maggie paced her kitchen, confused and not sure how to feel. 

* * *

When she arrived in the Science Division, her world exploded a little bit. As soon as Maggie knew aliens were real, she started seeing them everywhere. Looking back on some of her stranger calls, things started to add up. It didn’t take long for her to accept that there were aliens living around her. That made more sense than many things she saw: people beating their kids and spouses, people starving their animals and forcing them to fight, people killing themselves slowly with drugs and alcohol, people resorting to violence over a card game or misinterpreted look.

Perhaps it was her willingness to accept that there were aliens so quickly that gave her the ability to handle calls other officers struggled with. She knew instinctively when a metahuman was dangerous and when they were scared. She relied on nonverbal cues often. But her compassion and fairness earned her a reputation for being too soft. She let a few metahumans go because there was nothing she could charge them with other than being strange. She got teased by her colleagues for it, and it made her bristle. The next few calls she went on she was a little rougher than she needed to be, just to prove she had it in her. But she fell back into what came most naturally to her, and eventually her colleagues backed off. She was the most effective officer in the department, apprehending the most aliens at large with the least amount of force.

With her Medal for Heroism pinned to her uniform, she sailed through her interview and examination a year later, making detective. She was given the insignia to put on her uniform, along with another badge for marksmanship, and after sewing them on, she tucked her uniform in the closet, happy she no longer had to wear it most of the time.

She was more dedicated to her work than ever. She felt the need to prove she was worthy of her insignia every day, to truly protect and serve. And somehow, in her attempts to be worthy, she acquired three more medals for variations on bravery. These medals seemed to soak into her skin, and by her thirtieth birthday, she really believed she was brave.

This bravery came with a new willingness to open her heart. Though she hated to admit it, she craved the closeness she’d had with Jillian. Jillian had recently gotten married, but Maggie hadn’t dated anyone seriously since she had moved out. Now that she was moving through the ranks at work, Maggie wanted someone to come home to, someone who could really understand what her days were like.

She started dating cautiously, stealthily using her best interview techniques to determine whether or not a girl would take issue with the inherent risks of her career. She met a few potential matches, including a fellow officer, but no one clicked. 

And then she came across Darla. 

Maggie was sent on an investigation to determine the source of a strange concrete-eating chemical spill on the road leading to a bunch of warehouses. Detective Garcia was trying to collect a sample, but the slowly-expanding chemical kept melting through whatever materials he used to collect them. 

As Maggie’s team was scratching their heads figuring out what to do, Darla emerged from what initiatively appeared to be an abandoned building a few hundred yards away with a bag of trash.

Darla was someone Maggie had encountered before. She and her partner at her old precinct had brought Darla in on prostitution charges after Maggie’s ex-partner had caught Darla making out with a guy in an alley and saw money changing hands and found condoms in Darla’s purse. Darla had been adamant that she wasn’t engaging in prostitution, but they’d heard that before. They booked her and filed the appropriate paperwork.

This time, Darla seemed almost smug when Maggie asked if she could ask her a few questions. 

“Sorry, babe, not taking any new customers.”

Maggie smirked, putting her hands on her hips. “Not looking to get lucky.”

Darla smiled as she threw the trash in the dumpster.

“You know anything about this?” Maggie asked, gesturing toward the area being taped off.

“What’s it worth to you?”

Maggie tipped her head as though she were actually considering a negotiation. “Maybe I’ll look the other way next time I see you with a customer.”

“He wasn’t that kind of customer,” Darla insisted. 

“Sure,” Maggie said, skeptical. She let the conversation drop, staring at Darla, waiting for her to talk.

Darla rolled her eyes and opened the door to go back in the warehouse.

“Hold up,” Maggie said. “I need to know how this got here and who’s responsible for it.” She gestured to the chemical spill and stared Darla down.

Darla sighed and stared back. “Am I being detained?”

Maggie held eye contact for a moment. She didn’t have a reason to detain Darla, and Darla knew it. 

“No.”

Darla flashed her a smug smile and disappeared into the warehouse, a swell of music accompanying the open and shut of a heavy metal door.

Maggie followed her and knocked loudly. “NCPD,” she called out. “Open up.”

Darla opened the door. Rather than look annoyed or smug, she let her eyes trail up Maggie’s body in a surprisingly forward way.

“You wanna talk?” Darla said. “Leave me your card and I’ll call you when I’m not slammed.”

“Slammed with what?” Maggie said, trying to peer over Darla’s shoulder for the source of the music. “Can I come in?”

“You got a warrant?”

Maggie put her hands on her hips, not enjoying this kind of power play. “I’m trying to investigate a chemical spill. If you have information that can protect the public, I’d appreciate your help.”

Darla sighed, shoulders drooping. “I don’t know how that spill got there.”

“Any idea who does?”

Darla shook her head. 

Maggie reached in her back pocket and took out her card. “You think of anything, let me know.”

She walked back to her squad car and investigative team, telling them that Darla hadn’t been willing to talk. 

Maggie didn’t think much of it until Darla called her a few weeks later. She sounded apologetic as she told Maggie that there had been an act of vandalism involving the same chemical Maggie’s team had been analyzing. Maggie asked her why she hadn’t called it in and Darla admitted she wasn’t sure how the cops would respond to an attack on alien property. Maggie sighed, knowing Darla had a point. Despite their oaths of office, some of her colleagues didn’t feel aliens fell under their purview to protect and serve.

When Maggie arrived at the bank of warehouses, Darla greeted her eagerly. Maggie took in the vandalism, a dripping, fizzing scrawl that said GO HOME ROLTIES on the corrugated steel siding. Maggie clucked her tongue, not sure what to do or why someone would target this building.

“It’s apstrom volcania,” Darla said. “Roltie is a slur for my kind.” 

“Your kind?”

Darla fixed her with an amused look. “For a detective that specializes in aliens, you sure suck at identifying aliens.”  

Maggie’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. She honestly had no idea Darla was an alien when she picked her up for prostitution.

“My apologies,” Maggie said sarcastically. “So what exactly is this… apstrom volcania, you said?”

“I don’t know the chemistry of it, but it’s a byproduct of Zakkarian ale and sunlight. I worked in a place that sold it once and when we got spills like that we just cleaned them up with milk. Fizzles a bit, but it neutralizes the acid and makes it easily absorbed by paper towels and whatnot.”

“Do you live here?” Maggie asked.

“Feels like it, but no. I own the place.”

“Own what place?”

“Oh - uh, come in,” Darla said, leading Maggie around the side of the building toward a more discreet door.

Inside, Maggie was stunned to see a dive bar, complete with billiards and clustered bar top tables. It was spacious and felt a bit industrial, but maybe it would have a nice vibe when it had customers. 

Maggie put her hands on her hips, almost smiling. She was a bit impressed, actually. She’d had no clue this place was here, and she had a pretty good handle on the nightlife scene in National City. Under other circumstances she might have asked to check their liquor license, but she was pretty sure Darla was smart enough not to invite a cop in if she didn’t have one.

Darla gestured for her to sit down, all traces of challenge and uncooperativeness gone. She told Maggie everything she knew, and Maggie made notes. When they were done, Maggie folded up her notepad and smiled. “I’ll do what I can,” she said. “But unless you have any idea who did it or think there’s a danger to civilians, I’m not sure it’ll go anywhere.”

Darla nodded. “I just want my clientele to feel safe.”

Maggie reiterated that she’d do what she could and went back to the precinct, giving tidbits of information to the lab techs who were finally able to analyze the sample they’d collected. From there, they were able to pinpoint a few key manufacturers and track down the vandals. Maggie got a nice note of thanks from Darla, assuring her she was welcome at the bar any time.

Toward the end of her first year in the science division, there was a shakedown in her department. Detective Draper, who she’d always been wary of, turned out to be an alien imposter. After something went down and Draper shot Detective Warren and some fed they were working with, Draper - or whoever the guy was - was sent to a special federal prison for aliens. Maggie had heard whispers about some bigger agency focused on controlling alien life, but she hadn’t seen any evidence of it herself. But Draper wasn’t in municipal custody, so he’d either fled or he was locked up elsewhere. 

Draper’s departure meant there was a vacancy in Maggie’s department. She’d just completed her eighth year on the force, her second as a detective, and even though she was young, she applied for the position. Her supervisors unanimously approved her promotion, and thus she found herself presented with the insignia for Detective II. 

She didn’t know how to celebrate, other than calling Whitney and her dad. She thought about going to one of her usual bars to pick up a girl, but that felt sad in a way she wasn’t sure she could stomach. She’d probably feel more alone than she already did.

So instead she found herself pulling up outside Darla’s bar, sans badge, knocking on the door, hoping to see a friendly face. She found just what she was looking for and was invited in as a hero. Darla told her all her drinks were on the house tonight, and Maggie only checked the label on her beer twice to make sure it was normal beer before drinking it.

Maggie had seen a lot of aliens in the last year, but this was the first time she’d been the sole human in a room full of them. They seemed happy and at home, oblivious to her human status. Aside from some of their physical features, they weren’t behaving much differently than humans in bars Maggie usually went to. There were the same chasers, the same unimpressed women being sought after, the same clusters of friends celebrating or commiserating. Darla chatted with Maggie as she worked behind the bar, flirting just enough that Maggie took it as a compliment but didn’t feel pressured. 

Maggie stayed until closing, offering to help Darla stack the chairs and wipe down the bar. When they were almost done, she turned to Darla, curious. 

“So I have to ask. If that guy I caught you with in the alley wasn’t a trick, what were you doing and why was he paying you?”

Darla turned the last chair up and looked Maggie up and down. “You really want to know?”

Maggie nodded, feeling her heart pick up.

“You’re off duty, right?” Darla asked.

Maggie nodded again.

Darla walked toward her slowly, lifting a hand to Maggie’s cheek.

Then she kissed Maggie, and while Maggie wasn’t exactly surprised, she was still confused.

But then Darla slipped her tongue past Maggie’s lips and the most extraordinary thing happened.

She could hear Darla. Inside her head. All her thoughts, all her feelings, all the noise and music in her mind.

Maggie startled back, but Darla just smiled. 

“Is that -”

“Telepathy,” Darla said. ““That’s what classifies me as a metahuman.”

Maggie gaped, not sure what to make of it. Darla must have interpreted her open mouth for wanting more, because she went in, sliding their tongues together, and Maggie was met with the cacophony inside Darla’s head. She held on for a minute though. She wanted to see if she could hear anything specific.

Sure enough, she could hear a strain of thought that had her instantly leaning into the kiss further. Apparently Darla had wanted to kiss her for a while, and was quite enjoying what they were doing. She was already imagining Maggie naked. And while it could have come across as creepy and weird, Maggie was flattered. Darla was attractive and smart and seemed to be doing a good job running a business. Maggie could do worse. 

She paused only to ask if Darla could hear her thoughts too. Darla nodded and said that she could, and at that point Maggie gave up debating whether or not this was a good idea. If Darla already knew she was interested, she didn’t really need to weigh pros and cons.

It was kind of nice to know something was a sure thing.

They fucked against the wall in Darla’s office that first night, sharing thoughts whenever their tongues were touching. Maggie felt drunk off of it. It was so much to take in, so much to process and filter and appreciate. She loved the immediacy with which she knew if something was working, what Darla enjoyed doing for her. It was a whole new level of intimacy, one Maggie felt she’d been missing for a long, long time. She hadn’t felt this connected to someone since Jillian. And because Darla immediately heard that thought and figured out who Jillian was, Maggie didn’t have to tell her. Maggie didn’t have to tell her  _ anything _ . And after a few weeks, they’d silently agreed they were dating.

Sharing thoughts was a truly thrilling experience. She couldn’t hide anything or pretend she was into something she wasn’t. Her ego was forced out of the room and she got to just  _ be _ whenever she was around Darla. Plus she got tips to help solve cases, she got off easier than she ever had in her life, and she felt close to a girl again.

But after a while she realized how limited it was. Sharing thoughts didn’t mean they were compatible when it came to things like dating and romance and, apparently, monogamy. Maggie tried to be open-minded, and at first polyamory truly intrigued her. She tried not to write anything off. But after a few trips into Darla’s mind while she was thinking of other people, Maggie realized it wasn’t for her. 

Besides, sharing a mind connection wasn’t the kind of intimacy she really wanted. She wanted a heart connection, which no amount of telepathy could create.

She let Darla down easy, as she always did. Darla seemed to take it in stride, assuring Maggie she was always welcome in the bar. Maggie was glad for it, since she’d come to like spending time with off-worlders. It wasn’t just a safe-haven for them, it was a safe haven for  _ her _ , a place she could be something other than a cop.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, the dream of having an apartment with a big, soft bed, and beautiful girl she got to call her own still flickered.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok I PROMISE they meet next chapter. Thanks so much for sticking with me through all this detailed backstory. There's a reason for it.


	4. Playing With Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, yes, they finally meet!
> 
> Sorry this took so long to get out. I'll try to be faster. Thanks to @youreterriblemuriel and @agentmuffin for helping me with this tricky chapter.
> 
> Obviously now that we know a little about Maggie's backstory this fic isn't as "canon" as it could be. But I love both versions a lot and don't feel like it'll impact the story very much going forward other than a few key moments/reveals. Hopefully that's cool with all of you.
> 
> For those who may not know, I'm presenting a workshop at Clexacon this weekend titled "Fan Fiction and the Art of a Good Love Scene." I know I haven't proven my chops in that arena in *this* story yet (I will!) but I hope, if you're going, you'll attend anyway. I'd love to see some friendly faces in the crowd.
> 
> Enjoy!

The breakup with Darla wasn’t bad. Darla seemed almost apathetic, shrugging and saying she was glad they’d been able to keep each other company for a while. Maggie was a little discouraged by how flippant she was, but tried not to think too much on it. It was nice to have a breakup that didn’t crush her from the inside out.

 

After a few weeks, Maggie started going back to Darla’s bar whenever she needed to blow off steam and didn’t want to enter the meat market that was her favorite girl bar. Darla always welcomed her, giving her the odd free drink and answering whatever questions Maggie had related to her cases. Based on Darla’s tips, Maggie was able to solve a few cases other detectives thought were cold. She made some casual friendships with regulars who quickly accepted her as though she were extraterrestrial. Maggie earned a stellar reputation among her colleagues and aliens alike.

 

She started hearing rumors about a secret government operative targeting aliens. A year or so ago she might have brushed it off as nonsense, but when a few of Darla’s customers disappeared, she started to get curious. She checked her department records to see if anything matched up, but there was nothing. It had to have been a conspiracy theory.

 

Meanwhile, Maggie was thinking about dating in earnest again. Darla had given her the confidence to put herself out there, and she wanted to make an effort. Given how little time she had, she opted to create an online profile. She didn’t put much information on it, just a few pictures Whitney had taken during a visit to National City a few months ago, and a few sentences.

 

_Me: hard-working small town girl who loves the big city, bikes, a good beer, and brainy girls. You: can keep up._

 

She got a few messages right away, but when she opened them she saw they were all from men. She debated deleting her profile but eventually found the right setting to block them. She still managed to get two messages from straight girls looking for a third with their boyfriend, but eventually some genuine interest trickled in. Some were too old or too young, and some didn’t have a profile picture - or didn’t have a picture of the girl’s _face_ \- but one message  made her smile.

 

_Keep up on a bike? or in conversation?_

 

She checked the girl’s profile and saw she was cute. No drugs, no partner, no other red flags. So she messaged back.

 

_Let’s start with conversation ;)_

 

The girl invited her out after a few more messages. Maggie wasn’t sure how online dating was supposed to work, but she figured it was better to meet quickly than waste time on some weird digital dance if they didn’t click in person.

 

They met at a tapas bar, and right away Maggie was glad she’d agreed. Jacqui was cuter in person, and as they got to know each other, Maggie started feeling uncomfortably hopeful because Jacqui was an EMT. Maggie had wondered whether dating another first responder would solve the problem she’d had with Jillian worrying herself sick about Maggie’s safety. Maggie told Jacqui she was a cop right away, and Jacqui didn’t flinch or show any noticeable intrigue or concern.

 

They ended the night with a walk around the neighborhood and a brief, smiling kiss.

 

They started seeing each other whenever they were both free. Jacqui often waited for Maggie to invite her out, to call or text, to initiate kisses and beyond. Maggie didn’t mind at all. Somewhere between Kate showing her the ropes and meeting Jacqui she’d realized she liked being in the driver’s seat.

 

Jacqui was smart and Maggie liked listening to her talk. The sex was pretty good too. Maggie missed the immediacy of hearing someone’s thoughts, but figured out how to read Jacqui’s body quickly. Jacqui wasn’t phased by the dangers of her job, and for the most part she was understanding when Maggie was late or had to cancel plans. Maggie started getting that dizzy, excited gut feeling.

 

One night they were out late getting dessert after they’d both worked long shifts. They’d been dating a few months, and Maggie felt the gnawing need to make their relationship official. She knew Jacqui wasn’t going to do it. When Jacqui got up to use the bathroom, Maggie dug a pen out of her purse and wrote on the paper table cover _Will you be my girlfriend?_ She capped the pen and smiled, nerves buzzing, as she stuffed the pen back in her purse and waited.

 

When Jacqui returned, she froze for a second with her hand on the back of her chair before her face split in a smile. She sat, scooting forward before lifted up to lean across the table and kiss Maggie.

 

“Absolutely.”

 

Maggie was proud and nervous and happy. Something good was finally happening in her personal life. Maybe she wouldn’t have to choose between her blue family and a satisfying relationship after all.

 

They went back to Maggie’s that night and had sex. It was good, and afterwards Jacqui fell asleep and Maggie lay there, dazed and content, feeling like things were shifting into place and she was becoming a fully integrated adult.

 

There was still the matter of aliens. Or rather, the fact that Maggie wasn’t at liberty to reveal the pervasive presence of aliens in National City to Jacqui. Jacqui knew about aliens, of course. Everyone in National City did. She’d gone on a few weird calls and treated some injuries inflicted by extraterrestrials, but when Maggie gently prodded to see if Jacqui knew what she’d been dealing with, Maggie was certain she didn’t. The concentration and whereabouts weren’t something Maggie was supposed to talk about, partly because it was department protocol, but also because she wanted to protect her friends.

 

So Maggie couldn’t go into detail about her day most of the time. Still, it was better than being alone, and Maggie figured in a month or two when things progressed a little more she’d start introducing some details. Or maybe she wouldn’t. She hadn’t decided yet. Work had always been the one thing no girl could touch, and part of her wanted it that way.

 

When the precinct was notified that the President was coming to town, Maggie knew the NCPD would be under scrutiny. Her whole department was bustling and down-to-business.

 

Maggie was assigned to the airport for the President’s landing. She was more personally invested in this assignment than others. Having a female President had given her a lot of hope for the future, and she was prouder than ever to protect and serve. But she was on high alert, worried something would happen that would reflect badly on her and her department. Maggie had handled a lot on the force, but such a high-profile event had her biting her cheek, anxious and trigger-ready.

 

The landing went smoothly, but as soon as the President started to de-plane, there was an attack. Two enormous fireballs shot out of the sky, hurtling toward the President, who tumbled down the stairs.

 

Maggie flew into action, body racing hot and cold. The Secret Service got the President to safety with Supergirl’s assistance, and Maggie wrangled civilians and cleared the scene. She roped it off, barking orders at her subordinates, calling for a forensic collection team to be dispatched.

 

It was chaos for the better part of twenty minutes before Maggie registered the severity of what had just happened.

 

Not only had an attempt been made on the President’s life, the attack had clearly been alien. She could picture her friends at Darla’s bar huddled together over their drinks, worried what this would mean for their community. She wished she could be in both places at once, doing her job while also comforting her friends. The attack was bad news for everyone, and Maggie feared it was the beginning of a national anti-alien movement.

 

Once everything was clear and there were no signs of imminent danger, Maggie got to work collecting evidence. She’d always been able to focus when the stakes were high. She’d seen a burn pattern like this before, and she was fairly confident she knew what they were looking at. Once she felt like she’d gotten a handle on the scene, her nerves settled.

 

But just as they did, some arrogant Secret Service agent tried to take over the scene in the most patronizing way.

 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing in my crime scene?”

 

Maggie could have hit back with the obvious, “ _My job_ ,” but what she said instead was more cutting.

 

“Anyone ever tell you all you feds sound the same? It’s like you all watch the same bad movies at Quantico.”

 

The fed didn’t like it, of course, but at least she asked for Maggie’s name with less vitriol. Maggie pulled out her badge and ran through her script, requesting the same of Agent Danvers.

 

And then, as though this interaction couldn’t get worse, Agent Danvers switched from being aggressive to being condescending.  

 

“I’m sure you mean well, Detective, but this is a _federal_ crime scene. You’re contaminating my evidence.”

 

Maggie was used to being underestimated. Her size, her voice, her gender made it hard for some people to take her seriously, especially at work. But she thought a female fed would understand and wouldn’t subject her to the same unwarranted scrutiny a man would.

 

But she had no such luck and had to throw out a few choice pieces of information to make Danvers reconsider her assumption that she didn’t know enough to assess what happened.

 

Because who knew more than Maggie about aliens? Among humans, at least, no one. Between information gleaned from Darla, firsthand experience, and the files at the precinct, the Secret Service would be hard-pressed to know more. The Secret Service weren’t alien specialists, after all. Their scope was broader.

 

Maggie threw out a few choice details the Secret Service wouldn’t know, including the short list of particular species that could have perpetrated such a crime against the President. A flicker of recognition passed over Agent Danvers’ face, and Maggie knew she wasn’t who she said she was. The Secret Service wouldn’t send one of their agents to collect evidence. They lacked expertise in forensics.

 

Something else was happening here.

 

But Danvers was right that the crime was federal, so Maggie’s argument didn’t have much of a backbone. She retreated, but only temporarily. She was still going to do her job to the best of her ability, even if she couldn’t be at the crime scene. She wasn’t so stupid as to attempt to interfere with a federal investigation. But she was still going to try to figure things out.

 

Maggie headed to Darla’s in an unmarked precinct car after her shift. She needed to be in the company of others who would understand her worry about tensions rising between humans and metahumans. As she drove past several warehouses, her scanner went on the fritz. She didn’t think much of it until she got inside the bar and found all the aliens crouching, silent and terrified.

 

She gave Darla a questioning look and Darla beckoned her over. Without preamble, Darla kissed her, sliding her tongue into Maggie’s mouth. Maggie startled back, alarmed. She would never do that to Jacqui, especially since they’d just agreed they were exclusive. But before she’d had time to pull away, Darla had silently told her what was happening.

 

There was a commotion in one of the warehouses a few buildings over, and given the string of alien disappearances lately, Darla’s customers were afraid it meant the buildings were being searched.

 

Maggie pulled far away from Darla.

 

“What the _fuck_ ,” she hissed, scowling.

 

“Sorry. I didn’t know you were seeing someone.”

 

“Yeah, well, you should probably ask before kissing someone.”

 

“I figured you would have brought her around if you were serious about her.”

 

“I’m working up to it. She isn’t that familiar with aliens yet.”

 

“ _Oh_.” Darla seemed surprised. “I thought you’d stick with aliens…”

 

“Everyone’s got a fair shot with me.” Maggie crossed her arms, still a bit miffed. “So long as they’re female.”

 

Darla looked Maggie up and down, and Maggie felt a flicker of that nakedness she used to feel when Darla read her mind. But then Darla was distracted by a signal from one of her customers.

 

“Whatcha got?”

 

Maggie turned to see a girl with her eyes shut, almost trance-like in lotus pose as she levitated a few inches off the ground.

 

“A Daxamite. Male.”

 

Maggie bristled, both at the information and the fact that she’d been so off. Daxamites didn’t have heat vision. Maybe he’d contracted out or used some sort of weapon.

 

“Anything else?” Maggie asked, walking toward the Seer.

 

“He’s looking for something.”

 

“Do you know what?”

 

“… No.”

 

Maggie huffed. She was glad for the information, but not sure what to do with it.

 

“His intentions are not malicious,” the Seer said.

 

Maggie shot her a skeptical look. The Daxamite had attempted to kill the President. Maggie was pretty sure that was malicious.

 

But Daxamites were also less dangerous than most aliens. They didn’t have super speed or hearing or X-ray vision or anything cool. Mostly they were strong and could jump pretty high. Maggie decided it was safe to approach one, so long as she didn’t get between him and whatever he was looking for. She walked out of the bar, head high and shoulders back, feeling a little like she was about to jump off a cliff.

 

She slunk into the warehouse where she thought the Daxamite was hiding. She crept along the perimeter of the space, looking for signs of motion. She was so quiet, she realized after a while she was holding her breath.

 

She thought the Daxamite would be hiding, but after a minute a young man came striding through the center of the warehouse, looking like he owned the place. He crouched down, and Maggie craned her head to try to see what he was doing. He was looking at something on the floor or by his shoe. He struggled for a moment, then tossed something aside before inspecting a pallet of shrink-wrapped cardboard boxes. “Yes!” he muttered as though he’d found something he was looking for.

 

Maggie leaned forward, squinting, trying to make out the lettering on the boxes as the man attempted to unwrap them. She leaned as far forward as she could, and then-

 

_CRASH._

 

Something fell on the other side of the warehouse and the man spooked, darting out the opposite door.

 

Maggie swore under her breath. She hadn’t gotten a clear view of him and wouldn’t be able to pick him out of a lineup or identify him in the precinct database. She stepped forward, crouching down to at least see what he’d been so enthusiastic to find.

 

It was three pallets of Zaccharian ale.

 

At least that explained the chemical spill a few months earlier.

 

Then suddenly doors were busting in around the warehouse and the thunder of boots and the unmistakable tone of orders given to a strike team filled the space.

 

She heard the command to raise her hands and obeyed, standing slowly, turning around. She couldn’t help but be a little bit proud that she got here first, but she was a little impressed they’d gotten there so soon without an alien tip.

 

Leading the charge was Danvers, in full tactical gear holding an automatic weapon so enormous Maggie wasn’t even sure what to call it. No Secret Service agent would ever have a need for something like that. Maggie smirked wider with satisfaction. She’d been right all along.

 

“Fancy firepower for a fed.”

 

Danvers wasn’t pleased to see her, and Maggie took smug satisfaction in evading her question about how she’d gotten in proximity to the alien before her and her team had.

 

“I’m a detective, Agent Danvers. I detect.”

 

As if she’d tell this woman her source. From the looks of the weapons they were carrying, they weren’t there on a diplomatic assignment.

 

Maggie remembered the hushed conversations between Darla’s regulars talking about some anti-alien government operative called the Department of Extranormal Operations. Maggie had written it off as a conspiracy theory, figuring the Science Division would be wise to their existence. But looking at Danvers and her team that seemed to be chomping at the bit to take down the Daxamite, it was the only explanation.

 

Plus, now she had proof that Danvers wasn’t who she said she was.

 

“I’ve heard stories of a black-ops anti-alien strike team. Sounded like the boogeyman. But here you stand… You’re DEO, aren’t you?”

 

Danvers avoided answering her question, speaking into her earpiece as she bent to pick up what Maggie now saw was an ankle bracelet.

 

Maggie took her silence as confirmation.

 

Then Danvers turned back to her, almost accusatory. “What did you see?”

 

“Not much,” Maggie admitted. “Guy sliced off his ankle bracelet and was trying to undo the shrink wrap on this pallet. Then you and your friends here busted in with the grace of a drunk NASCAR fanatic and scared him off.”

 

Danvers gave her a stiff, dismissive glare and pulled her team out, disappearing almost as fast as they’d entered.

 

Maggie was left in the dark, wondering what kind of idiot wouldn’t question her further. The DEO may have had great weapons, but their protocol regarding witness statements sucked.

 

Maggie was miffed at the way Agent Danvers had intervened and spooked the guy before she could get a clear look at his face. She kept her cool long enough to stop into Darla’s to assure everyone she was safe. She advised everyone to go home for the night, and to not walk alone in the district for a little while and to conceal their extraterrestrial traits as much as possible. She didn’t tell them about the DEO bust yet. She’d do that once she figured out how best to tell them. Then she went straight to the precinct gym and beat the shit out of a heavy bag.

 

Afterwards she was cooler. Still irritated, but cooler. She took pride in the fact that she’d gotten to the warehouse before the DEO with all their fancy equipment. Her methods really did work.

 

Her phone rang just as she was done showering in the precinct locker room. Jacqui was calling. She smiled and answered. “Hey, babe.”

 

“Hey. What are you up to?”

 

“Just finishing up at work.”

 

“Long day?”

 

“You have no idea. You free tonight?”

 

“I am.”

 

Maggie grinned. “Wanna come over?”

 

Jacqui said yes and Maggie hopped on her bike, eager to see Jacqui.

 

Jacqui greeted her with a smile and bottle of wine, looking adorable and so kissable Maggie didn’t even bother with a greeting. She pulled her inside and set the wine on the table in the entryway, steering Jacqui right toward her bed. They didn’t even open the wine.

 

It was exactly what Maggie needed after a day like she’d had. She loved that Jacqui understood that.

 

Afterwards they lay in the quiet, Jacqui quickly drifting off to sleep. Maggie felt settled enough to think back over her day.

 

It had been a weird one, even by her standards.

 

She thought through everything, from the President’s attack to the moment Jacqui walked through her door. Somewhere in there she’d tracked down a Daxamite, stood off with a federal agent, and - shit.

 

Shit, Darla had kissed her and she hadn’t told Jacqui.

 

Not that it was a big deal. Maggie hadn’t invited the kiss in the least, and she’d been very clear that it was unwelcome. But she prided herself on being honest and upfront with Jacqui, and they’d just had sex without her even mentioning it.

 

She felt herself sink heavier into the bed, less comforted by Jacqui’s warmth than she should have been.

 

Maggie woke tangled in Jacqui’s limbs to the sound of her phone ringing shrilly. She reached for it, face contorting at the harsh morning light and rude awakening. She tried not to sound half asleep as she answered, “Hello?”

 

“Sawyer, it’s Warren. You’re lead on the local investigation of the attack on the President, are you not?”

 

“Uh- I am.”

 

“Then why is it that I’m the one informing you there’s been a kidnapping associated with the attack.”

 

“The- the President was _kidnapped_?”

 

“Not the President, Sawyer,” Warren said, annoyed.

 

Maggie realized how dumb it sounded when she heard it back. She sat up, blinking, trying to be more awake. Behind her, Jacqui rolled over and put a pillow over her head to block out the conversation.

 

“Come down to the precinct for briefing,” Warren said.

 

Maggie assured him she’d be right in and set her phone down in the sheets, rubbing her hands over her face for a moment before flopping back and extracting Jacqui from under the pillow.

 

“Sorry, baby… I gotta work.”

 

Jacqui grumbled and Maggie sighed, leaning over to kiss her bare back before hauling herself out of bed and down to the precinct.

 

The situation turned out to be more confusing than Maggie had anticipated. The kidnapping of a random warehouse employee seemed unrelated to the assassination attempt, but her supervisor didn’t think so. He told Maggie to talk to her contacts and get a forensics team down to the warehouse where the kidnapping had taken place. Maggie did, and of course they found nothing. She held off on talking to her contacts because she knew she’d have the best chance of getting them to talk after they’d had a few drinks at Darla’s. Nine o’clock on a Wednesday morning wasn’t a great time to get information out of anyone, no matter the species.

 

Maggie was surprised when Agent Danvers called her around ten. Rather than her typical haughty condescension, she sounded tired as she asked Maggie to sign a nondisclosure agreement.

 

“How did you get to the warehouse before we did yesterday?” Danvers asked.

 

Maggie smirked. There was a decent amount of satisfaction in knowing she had any advantage over a top-secret government organization. “I told you, I’m a detective. It’s what I do.”

 

An annoyed sigh crackled through the line. “Detective Sawyer, if you have any information, we need it. I can go through the motions of bringing you in, but I’d rather focus on catching this guy before he makes another attempt on the President’s life.”

 

Maggie didn’t like Danvers’ attitude or the tactics of the DEO. But the President’s life was in danger and there was a rogue alien skulking around the warehouses near Darla’s, and she wasn’t such an egotist that she’d let her pride get in the way of protecting and serving those who needed it most. She figured what the NCPD couldn’t do, perhaps the DEO could. The enemy of her enemy was her friend, right?

 

Still, she wasn’t sure.

 

“I was in the neighborhood and heard something happening in the warehouse.”

 

“Sure you were,” Danvers said sarcastically.

 

“It’s not a line. I was actually in the neighborhood.”

 

Maggie tacked on a lie just to give herself a buffer. “My mechanic is near the warehouse you and your crew busted into so subtly.”

 

“Fine. If you have any more information, you know how to reach me,” Danvers said, a little snippy.

 

“And you undoubtedly know where to find _me_ ,” Maggie shot back.

 

“Yep.”

 

As threatening as it was, it made Maggie chuckle a little. She hung up, wondering what the best course of action was.

 

She didn’t like Danvers. She didn’t like her attitude or what she knew of her organization. Any government agency that treated a minority group as unilaterally bad and in need of containment was beyond irksome to Maggie. Her friends at Darla’s we mostly good people who just wanted to live their lives and not draw any attention to themselves.

 

But on the other hand, Maggie had a golden opportunity to influence someone inside the DEO. She had information, or at least sources of information, and a way to get it to the DEO in a way that would paint her friends as more sympathetic than people gave them credit for.

 

She tried to delay making a decision, but she knew those same friends were at risk if the attack on the President triggered a wave of anti-alien violence. So she decided to take Danvers’ bait and see if she couldn’t flip the situation a little bit.

 

Maggie knew it woudld be a risky move, bringing an agent into a space known only to aliens. It could potentially backfire. But she thought maybe if she could humanize the people she cared about, Danvers would soften a little.

 

The more she thought about it, the more she felt like trying to soften Danvers’ stance was the right tactic. If she could bend her just enough to sympathize with her alien friends, everyone would be safer.

 

So she called Danvers, inviting her to Darla’s. She figured so long as Danvers didn’t bring anyone with her, Danvers would be outnumbered and Maggie could handle her. If needed, Darla’s customers would lay low for a few weeks and when Darla reopened, she’d change the password.

 

So Maggie played nice, pretending to have some kind of collaboration in mind when she invited her to the alien bar. She extended what she hoped seemed like an olive branch.

 

Danvers answered the phone almost comically seriously. “Sawyer.”

 

“Want to see how us local cops deal with aliens?”

 

Maggie could practically hear the distrust clogging up the connection for a moment before Danvers said, “Sure.” Maggie gave her the address of the warehouse beside Darla’s. If Danvers brought anyone, she’d take her into the adjacent building and claim ignorance as to why there wasn’t anyone or anything there. But Danvers arrived alone on a sweet Ducati with no earpiece visible, and Maggie led her toward the door of the bar.

 

Danvers was nervous, and Maggie wondered why. Danvers didn’t seem to like the unpredictability of the situation. That was fine. It wasn’t like she was asking Danvers to jump off a cliff with her. But she did enjoy making her squirm a little bit. It was fun to watch, and given how uptight Danvers was, it was pretty easy, too.

 

Danvers didn’t realize what kind of bar it was immediately, and Maggie took a kind of sick pleasure in encouraging her to look around and figure it out for herself.

 

Maggie saw the exact moment Danvers realized she was surrounded by aliens. A white-hot panic flashed over her and she reached for her concealed gun so quickly Maggie almost didn’t have time to stop her.

 

She couldn’t believe Danvers had brought her gun with her. What a paranoid freak did that? Was she _always_ carrying? Maggie would have rolled her eyes if she hadn’t been so quick to make sure Danvers kept her gun concealed. She didn’t want to stir shit up in her favorite bar and risk losing some of her informants.

 

Darla shot Maggie an inquisitive look, asking if this was Maggie’s new girl. It was funny, how once sharing a mind connection gave them the ability to communicate with their eyes so well now. Maggie shook her head as she led Danvers to a table, crossing her arms, doing the best she could to encourage Danvers to chill the fuck out. They were just here to have a drink and talk. At least, that’s what Maggie wanted Danvers to think.

 

As Darla approached, Maggie shot Darla a look that said it was okay to have a little fun with Danvers. Maggie was almost delighted when Darla made a comment about Maggie having moved on quickly. It was too perfect, too aimed at making Danvers squirm. Maggie pushed it even further, twisting the truth just a little bit about how Darla had learned English to make it clear to Danvers she was gay. Darla had learned English through a telepathic connection, just not with Maggie. But that was an unimportant detail.

 

Danvers seemed startled, and Maggie wasn’t sure if she was more alarmed to learn Maggie was gay or that she supported inter-species dating. It didn’t really matter, but Maggie liked to know what brand of prejudice she was dealing with.

 

Not wanting to let one that she was on a personal alien amnesty crusade and undermine her goal of helping her friends, she qualified the information. She didn’t want to seem like she had a fetish for off-worlders.

 

“I don’t strictly date aliens, for the record, though I do like them more than most humans.”

 

Maggie tried to keep Danvers on her toes, not pulling any punches. She threw in some personal details to mask her true intention; to unravel Danvers’ ideas about aliens.To Maggie’s surprise, Danvers softened when she said she could relate to aliens.

 

“Why?”

 

Maggie told her the truth. If she’d learned anything, it was that honesty got people farther than they expected. She saw a window opening in Danvers’ mind, but only for a second. He must have sensed a shift in Danvers, because Gary, a guy who she’d seen around a few times but never talked to, approached and started hitting on Danvers.

 

It was unfortunate timing, to say the least, because Danvers shuttered up right away. Even if she played tough, Danvers didn’t appreciate his attention at all. Maggie even found herself stepping in, helping fend him off and redirect the conversation to their mission of figuring out who had attacked the President.

 

They didn’t get much information out of him, but they got something. Enough for Danvers to feel justified in getting up and walking out. It might have seemed like Danvers was just leaving to relay information to her department, but Maggie knew better. Danvers had taken the first possible opportunity to get out of the bar, exiting without so much as a thank you.

 

Maggie couldn’t say she was surprised, but she was annoyed. She rolled her eyes, wondering why she even tried. At least Danvers’ early departure meant she’d be on time for dinner with Jacqui. Which she was looking forward to.

 

She meant to tell Jacqui about the kiss with Darla again. She did. But as the evening went on, she felt it was one of the best nights they’d had together in weeks and didn’t want to ruin it. They had a great dinner, a few glasses of champagne, took a walk home through the park, and then had sex at Jacqui’s place. Maggie was smiling as she fell asleep.

 

She woke up still in the afterglow, thinking maybe she’d gotten the hang of this thing with Jacqui.

 

***

 

When Maggie heard the Daxamite had been apprehended, she figured Danvers had done her thing. She was a little miffed - she would have liked to have locked him up herself, or at least gotten a thank you - but at least the job was done. Her friends were safe, as was the President, and she could get back to the stack of cases she was trying to work through. And hopefully have more nights like the night before with Jacqui.

 

She went to the signing of the Alien Amnesty Act as a civilian. She had asked Jacqui to go, thinking it might be a window into talking about aliens more broadly, but Jacqui had a shift. Plus she was a little worried how Jacqui would react. What if Jacqui didn’t believe in equal rights? How would she reconcile that with liking her so much?

 

So she went alone, happy to be out of the office in the bright sun and unseasonable warmth.

 

She was surprised to see Danvers there. She didn’t think Danvers would support amnesty, let alone thank her for her assistance. She was a little smug to see Danvers in civilian clothes. Danvers hadn’t confirmed it verbally, but the fact that she clearly wasn’t on security detail meant Maggie had been right all along. She was DEO.

 

The President’s speech made Maggie feel proud. Here was a woman - the most powerful woman in the world - giving a speech about American values that reflected Maggie’s belief that aliens should be treated equally. She’d felt the same type of pride of country when gay marriage had been legalized a few years before. There was a lot of shitty stuff happening around her, but every once in awhile something went truly right.

 

She glanced over at Danvers a few times to make sure she was hearing. Danvers looked agitated, like she didn’t want to admit she was being schooled by the President.

 

Maggie felt her pride swelling as the President asked for a pen to sign the amnesty act. She’d seen so much evidence that society was crumbling: violence, addiction, illness, corruption. But sometimes she got to be part of a system that delivered justice. True justice. And that made all the rest of it worth it.

 

The President lifted her pen, and then all hell broke loose. Fire shot toward the podium, people started scattering, and Maggie spun around, looking for the source of the attack. She saw Danvers go flying into the fountain, and Supergirl catch fire. She saw an Infernian she recognized from Darla’s right next to her, a fireball in each hand, and drew her weapon.

 

“Put ‘em out or I’ll put you out!” Maggie yelled.

 

The Infernian sneered and grabbed Maggie’s gun as though it was a toy. Searing hot pain shot through Maggie’s grip from the weapon. The Infernian spun her around like a lasso and then everything blurred into heat and pain and dizziness.

 

Then it went black.

 

When Maggie came to, everything was fuzzy for a few minutes before she registered she was in a deserted warehouse, arms extended over her head and tied with rope. She tugged and tugged, trying to wriggle out. Her hand was throbbing, the burn from the gun crisping and hot. It felt like her hand had swollen, making it impossible to slip out of the ropes. She was alone with no way to call backup or wriggle out.

 

She started yelling, calling out for help. But nothing happened. She was alone.

 

Given time to think, she realized that despite her supervisor’s insistence, she’d been right about the Daxamite being unrelated to the attack on the President. Nothing linked him to the first attack at all, and now that she’d seen the Infernian - her name was lost on her for a moment - she knew it had been her all along. She felt stupid for not going with her gut.

 

She also realized no one was coming to rescue her.

 

She dangled there for a long time, losing sensation in her hands, swallowing over and over to try to quench her thirst. She started to feel lightheaded and wondered what would happen if she passed out again. How long had it been? An hour? Three? Time felt distorted, like the heat from the Infernian’s hands and eyes had warped that too.

 

Maggie tried in vain to wriggle out of her restraints again, then heard footsteps and sinister whistling as the Infernian stalked toward her like she was prey.

 

As soon as she saw her face clearly, Maggie remembered her name. Scorcher. How original. She’d been to Darla’s a few times, always scowling. A lot of Darla’s customers were surly, but this girl was provocative, both socially and physically, in what amounted to a histrionic metahuman with the force of fire at her disposal.

 

Not a good combination.

 

“You stupid DEO agents,” Scorcher spat. “Masquerading as a cop.... You’d have done better to pretend to be one of us.”

 

Maggie realized Scorcher had the wrong idea about her. She almost argued.

 

But Scorcher seemed angry, and given that Maggie was tied up and incapable of defending herself from an alien who could hurl fire at her, she decided to try to deescalate her.

 

Maggie was pissed and uncomfortable, but she tried to keep the bite out of her voice as she addressed the Infernian.

 

“I’ve seen you around,” Maggie said.

 

“And you’re the alien groupie,” Scorcher shot back.

 

Maggie may have wanted to deescalate the situation, but being called a groupie and accused of meddling in the alien community for nefarious purposes _and_ being called pathetic didn’t make it easy.

 

“I care about the community. Humans and aliens both,” Maggie said, sounding gruffer than she meant to.

 

Scorcher seemed to want to have the same argument she was having with Danvers, in a way, that all aliens were dangerous. Only Scorcher was arguing that all _humans_ were bad, all out to deny them rights.

 

“Isn’t that what alien amnesty is about? Equal rights?” Maggie said.

 

Scorcher pinched her chin condescendingly.

 

“No. No, no, no,” she said in a baby voice. “It’s about voluntarily revealing ourselves like _fools_. So you know where we live, who we are, what we can do. Amnesty is just another mask to disguise registration.”

 

Maggie hated to admit it, but Scorcher had a point. Not that she’d ever admit that.

 

Before she could respond, Supergirl plummeted from the top of warehouse. Scorcher took the bait and walked over to her, leaving Maggie to continue her struggle against the ropes. She didn’t want to pass up what might be her only opportunity to escape.

 

She caught movement in the corner of her eye and turned to see the last person she ever expected to come to her rescue.

 

Agent Danvers.

 

Maggie couldn’t believe it.

 

Danvers crept up to her, only standing at full height when it was necessary to cut Maggie down. Maggie brought her arms down, pain flaring through them, burn stinging even worse as blood rushed into her hands again. She shifted her shoulders, hoping they weren’t too screwed up, and was about to follow Danvers back along the periphery when a ball of flame threw them both backwards, sliding along the pavement.

 

Maggie felt her shoulder burn even through her jacket as she slid. The landing was hard and she knew she’d bruise in a few places. She didn’t have a weapon or her phone, but at least she wasn’t tied up.

 

Supergirl distracted Scorcher again and they crawled behind a row of barrels. Maggie looked at Danvers, perplexed, wondering how she’d found her or even known she was missing to begin with. But she couldn’t ask until they got out of the warehouse to safety, and there were a few obstacles.

 

It was a truly spectacular battle. Maggie had never seen anything like it. Sure, she’d seen a few fireballs and a few odd tricks at Darla’s, but never the full-throttle battle of metahuman abilities unfolding before her now. She knew she should have been afraid, but beyond that she was fascinated.

 

Eventually they subdued Scorcher, Maggie delivering the final blow to the Infernian’s head. Maggie hated to use such force, but without another weapon or method of subduing her, she had no choice. The danger was imminent and the threat real. So she gripped the pipe and swung.

 

And then everything was still. Despite the dire circumstances only ten minutes earlier, Maggie felt invigorated, as though she had never worried about her fate. She’d be fine, save for a few superficial scrapes and burns, and they’ll heal like the rest she’s gotten on the job.

 

Danvers and Supergirl were kind to her, offering to get her looked at. Maggie refused initially, but when Danvers took a look at the bubbling burns on her hand, she caved. It really did hurt, and the thought of waiting at NC General didn’t sound appealing. An armored car took her and Danvers to the DEO.

 

The inside of the DEO blew Maggie’s mind, to put it lightly. She hated to admit she was jealous of the resources Danvers had at her disposal. She tried not to think of what she could do if she could harness all that power for good. A lot, she knew.

 

But rather than let her jealousy consume her, she focused on her gratitude. For whatever reason, Danvers had saved her life. With a little help from Supergirl, of course. But Danvers seemed to be the strategist between them, and as a cop Maggie knew strategists and dispatchers were often the unsung heroes. So she made sure Danvers knew how grateful she was, saying she wouldn’t mind working with her again.

 

Alex made a lighthearted comment about Maggie having a date, and Maggie realized that in all her excitement about seeing the inside of the DEO, she’d completely lost track of time. She was supposed to meet Jacqui for dinner, and she was running late. Not egregiously late, but enough that she grabbed a bouquet of flowers at a corner stand as she dashed toward the restaurant.

 

Jacqui was forgiving, smiling at Maggie and brushing her lateness away when she saw Maggie’s hand, checking to make sure it had been properly treated and bandaged. Maggie gave her a line about having grabbed a hot pan, not wanting to get into the details of her day and monopolize the conversation after she’d already been late. Instead she asked Jacqui about her day and settled in, feeling oddly out of place in such a normal situation after spending her day as a hostage. Her mind kept floating back to that warehouse, to all the crazy stuff she saw when Scorcher and Supergirl battled and later at the DEO.

 

“Where are you tonight?” Jacqui asked.

 

Maggie dragged herself back into the present. “Sorry,” she said, looking down at her plate. “Just… having a hard time shaking off my last call.”

 

“Wanna talk about it? Jacqui asked.

 

Maggie knew she should feel free to talk about it. Jacqui understood the frustration of a call that seemed to be going well and then crashed at the end. Still, she wasn’t sure how to say that she’d spent her day as a hostage to an offworlder who wanted to assassinate the president.

 

“I finally made some headway in a case and made an arrest but then they got off on a technicality,” Maggie lied.

 

“That sucks,” Jacqui said. There was a little sympathy in it, but Maggie wondered if she really understood that particular kind of disappointment. “I hate when I work on someone for an hour and get them stable and then we’re almost to the hospital and they crash.”

 

“Well, yeah, except they’re a criminal walking free, potentially harming innocent civilians.”

 

Maggie regretted it the second she said it.

 

“As opposed to someone dying?” Jacqui challenged back.

 

“No, you’re right, I’m sorry,” Maggie said, embarrassed she’d said something so dumb. This was the part of relationships she was not very good at: balancing her attentions between work and her girlfriend.

 

“Tell me more about your day,” Maggie asked, leaning forward. “I promise I’ll listen this time.

 

Jacqui seemed to forgive her and smiled, a bit reserved. At least she was acknowledging Maggie was trying.

 

She talked for a few minutes about a strange call she’d been on, something about a bite mark she’d never seen before that didn’t look like a dog or human.

 

Maggie knew immediately what it was, but wasn’t sure it was the right time to introduce the subject.

 

Luckily Jacqui waved the topic away and asked if Maggie felt like coming back to her place that night.

 

Maggie wanted to. Sex sounded like exactly what she needed to unwind. But she also knew she couldn’t in good faith go to bed with Jacqui again without telling her about what had happened with Darla. She should have told her that same night. She felt tension steadily spread through her, realizing they’d had sex twice since.

 

“I do, but… Listen, um…” She folded and unfolded her hands. She knew she was already on thin ice tonight, but she had to tell Jacqui. “Something happened the other night that I feel I should be honest with you about. It wasn’t something I wanted or invited in the least, but I was out at this bar I sometimes go to, and I saw this girl I dated for a little while, and she kind of… well, she kissed me. Totally uninvited and unwanted. And I made that clear, and she knows it can’t happen again. But I just felt I should let you know because I wouldn’t want to hide something like that from you. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before. It slipped my mind.”

 

Jacqui’s face calculated for a minute before she lifted her eyebrows. “What bar?”

 

“Just this dive some of my friends go to. Nowhere you’d hear about.”

 

“Is it a girl bar?”

 

“No, not at all.”

 

Jacqui hummed. “Well, thank you for telling me. I’m glad we can be honest with each other.”

 

Maggie gave a tense smile, hoping that would be all there was to it.

 

“I don’t want you to go there anymore.”

 

Maggie paused, a little stunned. “Seriously?”

 

“It doesn’t sound like a place I want my girlfriend hanging around.”

 

“I mean…Nothing like that has ever happened there before.”

 

“Right, but if your ex hangs out there…”

 

“She barely even tends bar anymore. I’ve seen her there, like twice since we met.”

 

Jacqui’s face crinkled further in concern. “So you hang out in a bar where your ex works?”

 

Maggie tried to downplay the situation. “We only dated briefly.”

 

“Still.”

 

Maggie looked down at her plate, chewing her lip. She hadn’t expected this kind of response to being honest. “I mean… that’s the only place I see some of my friends.”

 

“If they’re really your friends they’ll hang out with you somewhere else.”

 

Maggie squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, wondering how to explain that they weren’t those kinds of friends.

 

“I don’t- I don’t think it’s necessary for me to stop going there.”

 

Jacqui tensed up and stopped talking, taking passive aggressive bites of her food. Maggie knew the night was deteriorating. She was partly annoyed Jacqui was freezing her out like this, but she also wondered if she didn’t deserve it a little for keeping such a big part of her life separate from Jacqui. She felt like a fraud for claiming to be so honest and honorable when she was deliberately concealing most of her job from someone who probably would be okay with it.

 

There was something about the way Jacqui froze up that made Maggie work harder to try to melt her. “Do you want to go see a movie after this? I know you wanted to see Sully.”

 

Jacqui shrugged, and her chilly indifference only made Maggie more desperate.

 

“I’m pretty tired,” Jacqui said. “We should probably call it a night.”

 

Maggie nodded, accepting her defeat, hoping she could salvage things next time they saw each other. She’d put in more effort to be romantic, planning something special to show Jacqui she was serious about wanting to be with her.

 

She paid the bill and gave Jacqui a kiss on the cheek before they went their separate ways.

 

She was unsettled by how her admission had gone, but maybe she deserved it for hiding things from Jacqui. She told herself she was working up to full transparency about aliens. Being alone would give her time to figure out how best to do that.

 

She was about to hop on her bike to go home when she got a text from Agent Danvers.

 

_I have some paperwork for you. Can you come pick it up?_

 

Maggie realized she’d never gotten around to signing that NDA, and that it was non-negotiable now that she’d seen the inside of the DEO.

 

_Sure. I can come now. Address?_

 

_I thought you had a date._

 

_Just send me the address._

 

When she stopped by the address Danvers gave her - Alex’s apartment, apparently - to pick it up, she was presented with _forty five_ pages to fill out.

 

“What the fuck is this?” Maggie asked.

 

“About half what I had to do before I was cleared to even start training,” Alex said, hand on her hip and a smug smile on her face.

 

Maggie raised her eyebrows, feeling the heft of the packet. “Your partially-underground lair is cool, but if I’d known I would have to sign away my firstborn I’m not sure I would have agreed to go in…”

 

Alex smirked. “I wouldn’t worry too much. The DoD’s backlogged and probably won’t get around to interviewing your family for a few years.”

 

Maggie squinted a little bit, not sure if Alex was joking.

 

“It’s just standard stuff,” Alex assured her. “Your residential and relationship history for the past decade, debts, drug use, alliance to the US, association with any foreign or intergalactic nationals…”

 

Maggie raised her eyebrows at the packet again. It was double what she had on her desk waiting for her at the precinct.

 

“So do I bring these back to you, or…”

 

“Call me and I’ll pick them up,” Alex said.

 

“Sure…” Maggie said, not sure how she felt about handing a document containing all her personal information to a fed who hated aliens. She’d had a lot of associations with intergalactic nationals, after all.

 

“I won’t read it,” Alex assured her.

 

Maggie gave a skeptical nod and turned to go. “Thanks,” she said, feeling oddly resentful considering Alex had saved her life a few hours ago.

 

“Anytime.”

  



	5. Dead End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I left an author note on Alex’s chapter, but here’s an additional reminder that we didn’t know anything about Maggie’s background when I started writing this. In this story Maggie’s family is pretty okay with her liking girls, though they don’t broadcast it. She doesn’t have a history of cheating, but she’s still had a rough time with girls, especially when it comes to balancing her relationships and her job.
> 
> Enjoy!

 

Maggie spent the morning slogging through the paperwork Alex had given her. It was exhaustive. She made it through thirty of the forty five pages before she got a homicide call. She’d never been so grateful for a murder.

 

The victim was wrapped in a tarp and stuck in a trunk in the warehouse district. He - or she? - didn’t look or smell too good after however long they’d been baking in the car. Maggie held her breath as she snapped on her gloves and did a preliminary examination of the body.

 

Maggie had never seen this species before. She wasn’t even sure what chemical base it was, and her forensics team seemed to be spooked off it.

 

“I’m not certain our lab equipment will be able to process that,” one guy said, holding a hand in front of his nose as though it would block the stench.

 

Maggie huffed, annoyed at her team’s fragility.

 

Feeling like Alex owed her a favor for the morning she’d spent filling out paperwork, she called her. Even if she wasn’t a fan of the DEO’s tactics, they couldn’t imprison a _dead_ alien.

 

Alex arrived on the scene quickly, followed shortly by Supergirl, who IDed the victim as Sybillian. Maggie might have recognized it if it hadn’t been so decayed. Alex jumped into the assessment seamlessly.

 

Maggie enjoyed watching Alex work. She was quick and she knew her stuff. Maggie was a little embarrassed when Alex found a piece of evidence she hadn’t noticed: some type of claw or weapon jammed in the alien’s chest. But they were on the same page, and Alex sped off to analyze the claw.

 

In the meantime, Maggie went back to the precinct and scoured the database for Sybillians. There wasn’t a single record of crime committed by a Sybillian, so either there weren’t very many in National City, or Supergirl had been right that they were peaceful.

 

She got a text from Alex shortly after.

 

_Preliminary assessment of claw indicates assailant was Eulipok._

 

Maggie perked up, excited to have a lead. She looked through the database, finding only one Eulipok who’d been arrested for shoplifting a few years earlier. Not wanting to jump the gun, she called Darla.

 

“You know any Eulipoks?”

 

“Not really. Why?”

 

“I’m investigating a homicide.”

 

“Sounds thrilling,” Darla said with an air of boredom. “I don’t know any personally, but there’s a couple that live in Midtown.”

 

“Do they have names?”

 

“I don’t know the wife, but the husband was something… Quinn? Quint?”

 

“Quill?” Maggie prompted.

 

“That’s it.”

 

“Know anything about him?”

 

“Not really. He’s only come in a few times. Kinda shifty, if you ask me. Keeps to himself, seems a little anxious, a little pissed.”

 

“In National City? How odd.”

 

Darla chuckled.

 

“Any idea where I might find him?”

 

“Not a clue,” Darla said.

 

“Thanks for the tip,” Maggie said.

 

“When you get promoted send me an Edible Arrangement.”

 

“Will do.”

 

Maggie hung up and looked at the guy’s file. There was a home address, which was the first place for Maggie to look. They guy wasn’t there, but his wife said he was at work and usually went to the gym after. Maggie thanked her for the information and went back to the precinct.

 

Maggie avoided approaching suspects at their places of work. It caused a scene and put suspects even more on edge. She decided to wait and go to the gym later, easing into her approach.

 

Maggie knew better than to go alone. She shouldn’t have gone to Quill’s house alone. But after the demonstration of uncooperativeness her forensics team had displayed that morning, she wasn’t too keen on the idea of partnering with anyone in her department. So she invited Alex, who was all too eager to go with her to question the Eulipok.

 

It didn’t go as smoothly as Maggie had hoped, but working with Alex was effortless. She was even able to shake off the effects of the taser and get back to work quickly. If she had to work with anyone, she prefered to partner with Alex. It was just a shame they didn’t work for the same agency. Not to mention the fact that Alex was strangely and staunchly anti-alien for someone who spent so much time with Supergirl.

 

They didn’t get much information that night, but Maggie had some dirt on one of Darla’s customers she’d been waiting to use. She leveraged it the next day to figure out what was happening. She didn’t like to blackmail people, but an alien was dead. The guy didn’t give her much, and she was already over at Jacqui’s by the time he called her back. But he gave her enough: a time, a place, a dress code, and a warning that it wouldn’t be what she was expecting. Maggie didn’t bother to reply that she’d learned over the years to expect the worst.

 

Armed with information, Maggie knew she needed to go undercover. She sat against the headboard of Jacqui’s bed, still in her work clothes, looking around, thinking.

 

The last time Maggie had gone into the field alone she’d been held hostage by a fire-throwing alien. So while her first instinct was to slip into the event and scope it out alone, she knew it wasn’t a good idea.

 

Maggie considered bringing a male partner with her, but the men in her department had a nasty habit of taking credit for Maggie’s work. Still, taking a date would help her blend in. And while taking a _female_ date would negate that to some extent, most of the attendees probably thought of cops as men by default, so maybe it would work.

 

Yes, it would work.

 

Given that Alex had helped her secure her first lead, Alex was the most logical person to go with her.

 

Maggie tapped her phone, thinking. She didn't want to let any more time go by on this case. But she had also promised Jacqui some time together, and she didn't like to go back on her word.

 

So she settled for what she thought was a good compromise.

 

"Babe?" she said, looking up as she set her phone down.

 

Jacqui looked up from her book with a smile.

 

"I need your help," Maggie said. "I have to undercover and I need to look nice."

 

"Nice?"

 

"Dressy. Will you do my hair and makeup?"

 

Jacqui perked up, and Maggie grinned wider. The compliment had worked.

 

"How nice?"

 

Maggie shrugged. "Cocktail attire. Nothing too fussy."

 

"Do you need a dress?"

 

Maggie nodded, figuring the single dress she owned that she'd worn to her great-aunt's funeral a few years ago would look out of place amongst the fashionable folk of National City.

 

Jacqui got up from the bed and went to her closet, rummaging through. She held up a few options, all lovely, but none quite what Maggie had in mind.

 

"You really think I can pull off _florals_?" Maggie asked with a skeptical expression.

 

Jacqui chuckled. "You can pull off anything."

 

"I'm looking to blend in."

 

Jacqui walked the few paces to Maggie, leaning down to kiss her. “That’s gonna be a tall order. You stand out in every room you're in."

 

Maggie felt the unexpected compliment skitter through her body as she returned the kiss.

 

"Just something simple,” she murmured against Jacqui's lips.

 

Jacqui hummed an acknowledgment.

 

Then Jacqui pulled out a fitting black dress with lattice work on the sides and held it up, eyebrows arched in question.

 

Maggie looked at it, unsure. She wasn't opposed to wearing something snug. It just wasn't her first instinct. Or second instinct. But it could work.

 

"You think so?" she asked.

 

"Oh, I think so," Jacqui replied with a coy smile.

 

Maggie grinned. "In that case I can't wait to come back here later tonight and let you take it off me."

 

Jacqui froze, then flopped her arms down, the hem of the dress pooling on the floor. "You’re going out _tonight_?"

 

Maggie felt tension rise, realizing she hadn't been clear earlier. "It's a pressing call."

 

Jacqui sighed, not bothering to mask her annoyance.

 

"I know, I know," Maggie said, trying not to sound too defensive. "I promised I'd spend time with you. And I will. I just... gotta go somewhere first." She got up and hovered around Jacqui, slipping her hands around her waist in apology. "I'll try to make it quick." She kissed Jacqui's cheek and felt Jacqui flinch at the touch. "I'm sorry. It's just tricky business catching bad guys."

 

Jacqui seemed to soften at that. She looked up, giving her best puppy dog eyes. "Is it a really bad guy?"

 

Maggie thought about amending that it could be a bad _girl_ , but didn't want to open anything up to innuendo or question. "The worst."

 

Jacqui curled into her, draping arms over her shoulders and hugging her. "Promise you'll be safe?"

 

"Always am," Maggie said, smiling into Jacqui's hair.

 

Jacqui sighed against her, resigned.

 

Maggie slipped into the bathroom and turned on the water before calling Alex.

 

Twenty minutes later Maggie was showered and Jacqui had seated her on a stool in the bathroom with an array of tools littering the sink counter. It was quiet as Jacqui worked, withdrawn and focused. Maggie tried to catch her eye in the mirror as often as she could, giving her an apologetic and appreciative smile. She loved the intimacy of having Jacqui so close to her face as she smoothed over her eyelids and cheeks with sponges and brushes and wands. She loved the pull of the lipstick Jacqui drew on her lips, and she intentionally leaned forward, smearing it on Jacqui's cheek so Jacqui would have to apply it again. Jacqui giggled. "Hold still." Maggie kept her eyes closed and smiled until Jacqui stood and said, "Okay, all you need now is the dress and shoes."

 

Maggie stood, sliding her hands around Jacqui's waist and drawing their hips together. She didn't kiss her so she wouldn’t mess up Jaqui's work, but she wanted to. "Thank you."

 

Jacqui didn't meet her eyes as she nodded, and Maggie knew she should want to apologize again or call off her work duties or promise to make it up to Jacqui like she always did. But things were calm enough, and she hoped they could pretend everything was fine when she got home in a few hours.

 

She needed them to keep pretending everything was fine.

 

She put on the dress, and Jacqui mustered a dramatic wiggle of her eyebrows as Maggie walked out of the bedroom, which made Maggie laugh nervously.

 

"Do I get to ask where you're going?" Jacqui asked.

 

Maggie scrunched her nose as she shook her head in apology, putting a few belongings into a sequined wristlet Jacqui had found for her while she was in the shower.

 

"What about who you're going with?"

 

"A fed I've been working with lately."

 

"Did he ask you to dress up?" Jacqui asked, eyes narrowing just enough that Maggie knew she was mostly kidding.

 

" _She_ did not," Maggie responded with a wink as she closed the purse. "And she's straight." She walked the few steps toward Jacqui, heels clicking on the floor. She brushed her cheek against Jacqui's, not quite kissing her in an effort to preserve her lipstick.

 

"See you in a bit," she murmured as she pulled back.

 

Her eyes asked for the forgiveness she wasn't sure she deserved.

 

Jacqui's eyes didn't give it as she hummed in response. "Be safe."

 

Maggie gave a placating smile as she pulled away and stepped out the door, willing her guilt to stay on the other side.

 

Because she was wearing a dress, she took an unmarked car to the location, stopping by a costume shop to get masks first. She parked a few blocks away and walked, a little unsteady on the heels she wasn’t used to wearing. She found her stride and waited outside the building for Alex. Normally she would have fiddled with her phone, but she opted to leave it in the car. She didn’t want to think too hard about leaving Jacqui and why it felt so off, and she certainly didn’t want to start texting her and have the conversation distract her. They’d talk later. If they had to. But Maggie hoped they wouldn’t have to.

 

She and Jacqui were perfect on paper. Busy career women with no time for drama or bullshit. They didn’t want to move in, they didn’t want to meet each other’s parents, they didn’t want kids. They just wanted to enjoy each other. Jacqui knew she had a job to do, and she knew Maggie’s job was important. Even if Maggie hadn’t told her the details, Jacqui was a first responder. She got it.

 

But Maggie was starting to wonder if all of that was true.

 

Alex arrived just in time to spare her from following that train of thought.

 

Alex looked a little awkward. She was wearing a dress and heels, but they didn’t look like something Alex would own. Not that Maggie would really know. She’s only seen Alex a few times. But Alex didn’t quite look comfortable.

 

“You clean up nice,” Maggie said, trying to reassure her. She wasn’t uncomfortable in Jacqui’s dress, but it was an uncommon sensation.

 

“I do?” Alex said, looking a little relieved. “Well, you do too, with the shoes and the hair and the…”

 

Maggie chuckled, appreciating that Alex understood how weird this was for both of them. “Yeah, well. I’m not all business.”

 

She wasn’t saying it for Alex. She needed to believe there was a part of her that enjoyed things outside of work.

 

“But this is, right? I mean, what are doing here?”

 

“Wait for it,” Maggie said, handing Alex a mask.

 

Alex gave her a resigned roll of her eyes and put on the mask.

 

Maggie had withheld any details as a way of making sure Alex didn’t go charging in and blow their cover before she could get information. She didn’t know how Alex would take what she was about to show her. She didn’t know exactly what it was herself.

 

But she did want reassurance that she had backup. And though her outfit left no space to conceal a gun - Alex’s didn’t either, she’d noticed - she felt like, in a way, Alex _was_ a gun.

 

So she took Alex’s hand, bracing herself that way, assuring her they’d be fine, and feeling like she had least one weapon on her side.

 

A formidable man in tactical gear greeted them with the code phrase on the other side of the unassuming door. Maggie responded with the corresponding code phrase as his gaze drifted down to their still-clasped hands. Maggie didn’t let go, and Alex didn’t let go, and even though it was awkward, Maggie felt like letting go now would be even weirder. Plus it certainly didn’t hurt their cover to pretend to be a couple. People wouldn’t suspect two _women_ were undercover. Occasionally being a woman on the force had its advantages.

 

Maggie held Alex’s hand steady as they descended into the event space. It was about what she’d expected: a lavish pop-up with caterers and red velvet carpets and National City’s wealthy elite clustered around high tables sipping champagne. At the center of the room was an unmistakable ring for fighting.

 

She extracted her hand to take two champagne flutes off a passing tray and hand one to Alex as she explained who was in attendance. Alex took it in stride, anxious without her weapon, but cautious and deferential as Maggie had hoped. Still, she picked up on things as quickly as Maggie did. They almost didn’t have to speak, they were so in sync with their assessment.

 

When the fights started, Maggie’s gut twisted.

 

M’gann was being forced to fight. Her friend, the woman she’d chatted with on multiple occasions about work and the Amnesty Act and the recent surge in anti-alien crime, was at the center of the ring.  

 

She saw a lot of bad things in her job. Abuse, trafficking, murder. Every day she gathered evidence that humans were lacking in basic humanity.

 

But this underground fight club was something else. Desperate, downtrodden aliens were being forced to fight each other for the amusement of people who would go home to their luxury towers and feather beds. It was despicable.

 

“I really wish I’d called for backup.”

 

“I did.”

 

If she hadn’t been so grateful, she would have felt a little annoyed that Alex was always saving her in a pinch.

 

She saw the guy from the door approaching them and only had enough time to give Alex a low warning.

 

Things happened fast. Supergirl swooped in and fought the Bravak. Maggie and Alex took out the security guard, their jabs as seemingly choreographed as the night before. Maggie grabbed the guy’s gun and shot it in the air twice, a warning.

 

It felt good to have a gun in her hand again. She felt safe.

 

“ _Police_!” they both shouted at the same time.

 

The crowd shrieked and dispersed. To Maggie’s confusion, Alex moved toward the cage, shooting out the device keeping it locked. She crouched over Supergirl while Maggie tried to track Roulette.

 

She stood on her tiptoes, trying to see over the scurrying crowd. She looked around for something to stand on, but there were only the scattered tables, and no way to climb onto one without it tipping over.

 

Soon the room was empty save for Alex and Supergirl and the unconscious body of the security guard.

 

Maggie didn’t have her cuffs, but she knelt on him, subduing him in case he woke up.

 

When Supergirl stood, brushing herself off, Alex turned back to Maggie.

 

“Are you okay?”

 

Maggie nodded. “Just need to figure out how to get this guy into custody without cuffs.”

 

“DEO will be here in a minute,” Alex assured her.

 

Maggie nodded, feeling a little disappointed Alex had taken over her bust. It wasn’t even meant to be a bust. But she supposed she deserved it for going in unarmed. In hindsight that had been incredibly stupid.

 

The DEO swept in and took the guy out from under Maggie’s knee. She was buzzing from the high of the bust, but with no one to book and no one to interview, she was all keyed up with nothing to do. She hovered near Alex and Supergirl, hoping to be invited back to the DEO again for a debrief. But she wasn’t. They all swept out, barely making sure she was out of building before they zipped off.

 

Maggie was pretty confused about how the DEO worked.

 

Instead she drove around in the unmarked car for an hour, feeling herself slowly settle. She saw a few exchanges on street corners she might have otherwise stopped to investigate, but she wasn’t about to get out of the car and question someone in the outfit Jacqui had picked for her.

 

She should have wanted to back to Jacqui’s place. They would probably just have sex and go to sleep. Maggie would be able to work some of her energy out that way. But instead she kept driving around, letting the hum of the engine and the stop and start at each light soothe her. She was disappointed with how things had gone, how she’d tried to take it all on by herself, without even briefing Alex. She should have known better.

 

One of these days her hubris would get the better of her.

 

She got back to Jacqui’s around midnight, finally settled under a heavy, uncomfortable disappointment she hoped Jacqui would help her shrug off. But when she pulled up to the curb all the lights were off.

 

She stepped out of her shoes in the hall so she wouldn’t make too much noise and let herself in, tiptoeing in her stockings. She shimmied out of the dress and pulled the pins out of her hair, slipping into bed in just her panties and bra. She didn’t bother taking off her makeup. All she wanted was to curl around Jacqui. Her mouth couldn’t find the words to apologize, and even if they could, she wasn’t sure she would mean every single one. She didn’t want her words to be hollow. She felt hollow enough as it was.

 

As though she wanted Maggie to feel worse, Jacqui’s eyes opened unmistakably for a second, then closed.

 

“Hey,” Maggie whispered.

 

As she moved to drape her arm over Jacqui, Jacqui rolled away and tugged the covers around herself.

 

Maggie waited to see if she would roll over, but she didn’t. Maggie turned onto her back and stared at the ceiling. Had it not been for the images of Roulette’s fight club and Alex by her side, the hollowness might have consumed her.

 

***

 

Maggie decided to preempt any tension the next morning by making breakfast. Toaster waffles and orange juice and a sad-looking pear cut into slices wasn’t the most enticing meal she’d ever put together for someone, but it was a gesture. She brought a plate to Jacqui in bed, and Jacqui smiled at her in tentative forgiveness. They ate quietly, and when Jacqui was finished, Maggie started kissing up the side of her neck.

 

“You look really pretty first thing in the morning,” she hummed.

 

Jacqui hummed back quietly, and soon they were tangled together, panting. Maggie finally felt some relief from the tension that had been building.

 

But she only got a few minutes of peace afterwards before Jacqui turned to her. “Do you work today?”

 

Maggie gave an apologetic nod. “I should shower in a few minutes.”

 

Jacqui paused, then let out of a defeated sigh.

 

“What are we doing, Maggie?”

 

Maggie was both surprised and not. She knew a conversation was coming, she’d just been hoping to avoid it.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

Jacqui gave her a look that told her not to play dumb. “What is it you’re looking for?”

 

Maggie tried to buy herself time. She reached for Jacqui’s hand and played with it on the sheets. “You.”

 

Jacqui let out a smaller sigh. “Don’t get cute. I’m serious.”

 

It was quiet for a minute as Maggie collected her thoughts.

 

What was she looking for? She wanted a woman in her life. But in what capacity? She wasn’t sure.

 

But she knew what the right answer was.

 

“A partner,” she said.

 

“Really?” Jacqui said.

 

Maggie nodded.

 

Jacqui raised her eyebrows.

 

Maggie rolled closer, concerned. “What?”

 

“You don’t act like it.”

 

Maggie looked at Jacqui, so calm yet sad on the pillow. She hadn’t meant to make Jacqui feel unappreciated. “What can I do?” she murmured.

 

Jacqui looked down, as though she were embarrassed to have to ask for what she wanted. “Maybe… take me out a little more?”

 

Maggie squeezed her hand. “I can do that.”

 

Tension crept into the quiet as Jacqui didn’t respond.

 

“How’s tomorrow night?”

 

A hesitant smile crept from one side of Jacqui’s face to the other and Maggie knew she’d said the right thing.

 

She kissed the smile to seal it in place and said, “Soon as I get off work I’ll take you somewhere.”

 

Jacqui nodded, eyes sparkling, and Maggie kissed her for a while before pulling herself out of bed and into the shower.

 

***

 

Maggie got in touch with a few of her contacts first thing when she got to the precinct, hoping they would have information on Roulette. She didn’t hear back from them and hoped it was just a coincidence. Feeling restless, she swung by the bar on her lunch break. She was hoping to see M’gann, but it was Darla.

 

Maggie thought back to the last time she’d seen her, and how Jacqui had asked her not to come here anymore. But she wasn’t here for fun. She was on official business, trying to get information on the fight club.

 

She stayed guarded as she asked Darla if she knew anything about M’gann’s extracurricular activities.

 

“Can’t say I do,” Darla said. “All I know is if she misses one more shift, I’m gonna have to cut her.”

 

Maggie give a stiff nod, looking around to see if there was anyone else there who might have useful information. She felt tense and guilty, and it must have shown.

 

“What’s eating you?” Darla asked, nodding towards Maggie’s stiff shoulders.

 

“Nothing.”

 

Darla raised her eyebrows skeptically. “That new girl of yours treating you right?”

 

Maggie resented the reminder that she was on thin ice with Jacqui, and resented the fact that Darla could read her so well.

 

“You know anything about a woman called Roulette? She’s got something going on with some of your regulars.”

 

“Roulette… sounds familiar, but I can’t place her.”

 

Maggie eyed Darla for a moment, determining she was telling the truth. She couldn’t extract it from her the way she might have if she were single, but it did cross her mind. “Will you let me know if you hear anything?” she said, giving Darla a meaningful look.

 

Darla nodded, and Maggie turned to go.

 

Now all there was to do was wait.

 

She went back to the precinct and thought about writing up her report on the night before. She knew she should have, but she hated to leave it so incomplete. Plus she wasn’t sure how she could document it without looking like an idiot. Going undercover without backup, without a weapon, and involving a non-NCPD officer didn’t exactly look good.

 

Maybe Alex would know what to do.

 

But she couldn’t call Alex again without finishing the DEO paperwork, so she did. She was glad to have something to keep her busy.

 

_i’ve got that novel you asked me to write. not sure it’s a bestseller but it’s done_

 

Alex texted back right away, offering to send a car.

 

But Maggie was restless and didn’t want to sit around the precinct. She offered to bring them by, hoping to hear some good news about Roulette.

 

Alex surprised her by inviting Maggie to grab food after work. Sure, they worked well together, but this was an offering of friendship. Maggie wasn’t sure how she felt about that. But Alex had gotten her out of two bad situations in the last week, so turning her down again felt rude.

 

So she met up with her, and time flew by as they shared stories and tips and compared scars as they devoured pancakes.

 

“What’s the wildest thing you’ve done in the field?” Maggie asked, mostly to keep the conversation going.

 

Alex took a comically huge bite and chewed for almost a full minute, eyebrows dancing as she debated which story to tell. The anticipation only drew Maggie in more.

 

“Well - um… I flew a Kryptonian pod into space once.”

 

Maggie choked on the bite she’d taken. She sputtered, and Alex pushed her water toward her. When Maggie cleared her throat, she managed to force out, “You _what_?”

 

“I flew a Kryptonian pod into space.”

 

“Yeah, I got that part. But _why_?”

 

“It’s a long story.”

 

Maggie let her eyes dart around, still stunned. “I’ve got time.”

 

Alex gave a bashful giggle and looked down at her plate. “It wasn’t as exciting as it sounds.”

 

“Bullshit. Tell me.”

 

Alex reluctantly told Maggie how she’d figured out the basics of piloting the pod, how they’d crash-landed miles away from where Alex had intended. Maggie was riveted. She tried to play it cool, though.

 

“Shit, Danvers,” she said, shaking her head and taking another sip of coffee. “And I thought my job was exciting.”

 

“I’m sure you see plenty of excitement,” Alex said.

 

“Sure, but not _outer space_.”

 

Alex shrugged. “You know what they say. More space, more aliens.”

 

Maggie snorted and took another sip.

 

“What about you, what’s the wildest thing you’ve seen?” Alex asked, cutting her pancakes with the side of her fork.

 

“Oh, I don’t know… this and that,” Maggie said.

 

“You guys had an infiltration in your department a while back. That must have been a shocker.”

 

Maggie was surprised Alex knew, though she realized she shouldn’t be. The DEO had a lot of intel on alien crime. She wasn’t supposed to talk about the incident, but since Alex already knew, she only hesitated a moment before she said. “Yeah, well. Some shapeshifters can be really convincing.”

 

Alex kept her gaze on her plate, but lifted her eyebrows over a smile. “You work with the guy at all?”

 

“Not too much. I was still on the beat then.”

 

“Probably for the best.” Alex’s eyes darted up as she sliced through her pancakes with her fork again. “I heard he shot a federal agent.”

 

Maggie’s mouth fell open, wondering how Alex knew. She closed it quickly, trying to keep her cool. The details surrounding Draper’s dismissal had been kept under careful wraps. Not even everyone at the precinct knew what had happened. How did _Alex_ know?

 

Then Alex’s eyes did another up-and-down from her plate to Maggie and Maggie knew.

 

“It was _you_?” Maggie asked, hushed and incredulous. “ _You’re_ the fed that got shot?”

 

Alex grinned and gave a dismissive shrug.

 

“Shit…” Maggie said, leaning back and laughing. “Well, thanks to that incident, there was a vacancy in my department and I was promoted.”

 

“Really?” Alex asked, fork mid-air.

 

“I sat for my exam and interview that week,” Maggie said, grinning. “I have his desk now.”

 

Alex shook her head, smiling. “Small world.”

 

“Small world indeed.”

 

There was a strange, loaded pause.

 

Alex’s neurotic presence was starting to grow on Maggie. She realized, ironically, that the very thing she’d been trying to help Alex see - that not all aliens are inherently bad - also applied to federal agents. She was actually enjoying Alex’s company even though they weren’t on a case.

 

“Can we go back to the whole flying-an-alien-pod-into-outer-space thing?” Maggie asked, eager to change the subject from her department’s major oversight. “What possessed you to do that?”

 

Alex gave another nervous laugh. “I had to save Supergirl.”

 

“Isn’t that _her_ job? Saving people?”

 

“Usually,” Alex said. “This was a special case though.”

 

Maggie raised her eyebrows and sat back. “And here I thought I was special getting rescued by you. Apparently you’re the person _Supergirl_ calls when she needs a hand.”

 

Alex brushed the compliment off, assuring Maggie Supergirl had saved her more times than she could count.

 

Maggie could have stayed there talking with Alex for hours. Unweighted by stress, time flew by, and when she looked at her watch Maggie was stunned to see it was almost two in the morning. Even though she’d just stuffed herself with starch and sugar and caffeine, she felt refreshed and light. She wasn’t even bothered by the annoyed texts from Jacqui when she checked her phone on the way out. She’d intentionally bought herself time to plan a date, and one night out with a new friend didn’t make her a bad girlfriend. Still, she called and left a goodnight message, saying she was looking forward to seeing her the following night.

 

But as she fell asleep that night, her thoughts were of Alex and how nice it was to have someone she could talk to about work.

 

***

 

Alex called about Roulette the next day. Maggie had assumed the DEO would deal with the situation themselves and that she wouldn’t get any credit. But now she knew better than to underestimate Alex.

 

This time they didn’t bother with the charade. Maggie wore plainclothes under her police jacket and her hair pulled back in a low ponytail. Alex wore her usual tactical gear and looked much more comfortable in it than she had her cocktail dress.

 

“Lookin’ good, Danvers,” Maggie said with a smile as they met outside the warehouse.

 

There was a camaraderie there that Maggie hadn’t felt with someone before, an easy understanding of how they worked.

 

They didn’t have time for any further pleasantries, as they got the signal that it was time to enter and start making arrests.  

 

This time things went much smoother. They detained the right middlemen and cornered the aliens they needed to question. For a moment it looked like Roulette might get the aliens to turn and they’d have to open fire, but Supergirl swooped in and gave a speech about not fighting amongst each other.

 

It was trite and absurdly optimistic, and Maggie was shocked it worked. She chalked it up to being an in-group thing; aliens were more likely to forgive Supergirl her hopefulness than a human. They stood down, offering up the ringleader Roulette.

 

Alex let Maggie make the arrest. Maggie was high on the justice of it all as she clipped the cuffs around Roulette and walked her toward the waiting squad car.

 

But as soon as she got to the precinct, things went lopsided. First, she made the mistake of checking her phone. A handful of texts from Jacqui slammed her back into the reality where she was a terrible girlfriend who hadn’t given her a time or place to meet. She texted back furiously that she was booking someone and then she’d swing by to pick Jacqui up for their date.

 

A date she hadn’t put any thought into.

 

Then her sergeant demanded she let Roulette go.

 

She couldn’t believe she was back at square one. No arrest, no charges, and an upset girlfriend.

 

Alex sought her out on the street corner, assuring her in an oddly bright tone that they’d get Roulette soon. She invited Maggie out for a drink, which sounded great to Maggie. But out of the corner of her eye she saw Jacqui, and a little wave of panic slid through her stomach. She didn’t want to be alone with her because she didn’t know how to explain or apologize or if she even should.

 

She took the safety of Alex’s presence to greet her with a kiss and a gentle touch to the shoulder. Jacqui was polite and friendly. To Maggie’s relief, Jacqui stayed polite and friendly as they walked to Maggie’s cruiser.

 

“Do you wanna drive?” Jacqui asked, teasing.

 

Maggie chuckled. “Something tells me if you drive I’ll have to sit in the back.”

 

Jacqui snickered.

 

“A guy threw up in there the other day and I’m not too keen on riding back there.”

 

“You sure know how to make things romantic.”

 

Maggie slipped her arm around Jacqui, squeezing her. She dropped her voice. “Good thing I have other skills.”

 

Maggie thought she felt Jacqui stiffen for a second before she pulled away to open the passenger door for her. She gestured toward the seat with a chivalrous wave of her hand, and Jacqui met her eyes with an unreadable expression as she lowered herself inside.

 

Maggie walked around, whipping off her police jacket before slipping into her seat. She started the engine and pulled out of the station lot.

 

“So where are we going?” Jacqui asked with a hint of excitement.

 

Maggie had nothing.

 

“Where do you want to go?”

 

Jacqui’s smile faded. “I thought you were gonna plan something.”

 

“Yeah, I… got caught up at work.”

 

Jacqui let out a sigh, all semblance of forgiveness and cheer gone.

 

“Look, I’m sorry,” Maggie started. She wanted to follow up with an explanation or excuse or intention to do better, but again, she had nothing.

 

‘You’re always sorry,” Jacqui said. She paused. “Except I don’t think you really are.”

 

Maggie didn’t have a response to that.

 

“Do you really want to date me?”

 

“Of course,” Maggie said, startled the conversation was veering into barbed territory this quickly.

 

“It doesn’t feel like it.” Jacqui’s voice was getting pricklier and pricklier and Maggie instinctively slowed the car down, as though it might prevent Jacqui from getting more worked up.

 

Maggie reached over the console for Jacqui’s hand, clinging to it in lieu of a verbal response.

 

“Jac…” Maggie started. “Of course I want to date you. You’re great.”

 

Maggie heard the tears before she saw them. “Then why can’t you be bothered to plan a date? Just one date! It’s not hard, Maggie.”

 

Maggie swallowed, wondering what to say. She didn’t want to placate with a dishonest _You’re right_ because for some reason she _was_ finding it hard to plan dates. And she didn’t understand why.

 

“You’re _always_ working,” Jacqui said angrily. “Always. You hardly answer my texts or calls, and when I see you you’re only half there because you’re thinking about work. It’s an _obsession_.”

 

Maggie withdrew her hand at the sting. She pulled over so she could focus on Jacqui even though most of her was clambering to get out of the car.

 

“Most of the time you just want to have sex and go to sleep,” Jacqui said.

 

The accusation was so abrupt Maggie resorted to a joke to defend herself.

 

“To be fair, the sex is amazing.”

 

Jacqui shot daggers at her. “ _Christ_ , Maggie. How can you be so insensitive?”

 

“I’m sorry, that was the wrong thing to say,” Maggie said.

 

“Ya _think_?” Jacqui scoffed. “It’s not even about what you _say_ , it’s about what you do! You say you want a relationship but most of the time you just come in late, we have sex, you go to sleep, and before I know it you’re off to work again. It’s borderline sociopathic.”

 

Maggie arched her eyebrows, stunned. “Sociopathic,” she echoed, challenging Jacqui to defend her word choice.

 

“I don’t know how else to explain your behavior!”

 

“Maybe I just don’t know what you want,” Maggie said.

 

“You’d have to be pretty hard-headed to not know.”

 

Maggie stared at her, realizing she honestly didn’t. Were romantic dates really this important to Jacqui? Did she want more of a commitment? Was she looking to get married and settle down?

 

“I can’t read your mind, Jac,” Maggie said. She intended it to be soft and earnest, but it came out critical and harsh.

 

Jacqui dissolved into noisy tears and Maggie fidgeted in the driver’s seat.

 

Maggie had never seen Jacqui like this. Sure, she was a little sensitive at times, but she’d never seen Jacqui break down. Maggie figured there had to be something else going on. Maybe she’d gone on a tough call or gotten some bad news. Jacqui was a professional, but every now and then all first responders went on a call that threw them off. Maggie included.

 

Maggie took a breath, careful not to sound accusatory or dismissive. “Did something happen today?”

 

Jacqui shook her head and threw Maggie a look. “Other than realizing my girlfriend doesn’t give a shit, no.”

 

Now Jacqui was just being mean.

 

Maggie shifted back against the door and wondered if she deserved it.

 

“I do give a shit,” Maggie said.

 

But she didn’t have anything more to say. Which maybe proved Jacqui’s point.

 

She sat there in excruciating silence punctuated by Jacqui’s crying.

 

Maggie was so stunned by Jacqui’s words, and so defeated about Roulette, she couldn’t muster any energy to try to salvage the night. She didn’t have her head in the right place. She’d try again another day.

 

“Do you want me to take you home?”

 

Jacqui nodded and covered her face with her hands.

 

Maggie pulled away from the curb, guilt twisting through her body, pounding with every sniffle Jacqui tried to stifle. As she pulled up to Jacqui’s apartment, she knew what was coming. Jacqui gripped the door handle.

 

“I don’t want to see you anymore,” she said.

 

Maggie looked down at the steering wheel and nodded. She deserved it, she knew. She hadn’t put enough effort into something she should have.

 

Jacqui waited for a response for a few seconds, but Maggie didn’t have one. What could she say other than what she always said, a hollow, ‘ _I’m sorry_ ’?

 

“Unbelievable,” Jacqui muttered, shoving the door open with her shoulder. She stormed up to her door and opened it, slamming it behind her.

 

Maggie sat there, cruiser humming, wondering why she wasn’t surprised. Maybe she’d known it was coming. Maybe she had less of a heart than she thought.

 

Whatever it was, it was too much for this hour.

 

A stiff drink at Darla’s sounded really good. She pulled out her phone, fingers hovering over Alex’s name, wondering if it was too late to take her up on that drink offer. She wanted to feel light like she had the night before, when she’d forgotten about their disappointing case and her troubles with Jacqui.

 

But she had to work first thing in the morning, and texting anyone after midnight felt desperate. So she tucked her phone in her pocket, put the cruiser in drive, and stared blankly out the windshield as she drove home.

  
  



	6. Confidant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Like Alex’s chapter, this chapter references some girls from Maggie’s past as imagined in the first three chapters of this story: her baby sister Anastasia, who is 17 now, her straight best friend growing up Talia, her first love in college Kate, her first long term adult relationship Jillian, and her longtime friend and gay mentor Whitney.
> 
> Also, this chapter isn’t “synced” perfectly with Alex’s. While Alex’s chapter covered some events in 2x04 and 2x05, this chapter starts at 2x05 after Maggie had to let Roulette go and got dumped by Jacqui.

Maggie woke up the next morning to a missed call from her little sister Ana. The guilt Maggie felt over the way she’d treated Jacqui doubled with guilt about Ana. Ana was always hungry for Maggie’s attention and approval, and Maggie gave it too sparsely. Ana was smart and kind and hopeful. There wasn’t a good reason for Maggie to not dote on her.

She mustered a cheerful, encouraging tone as she called Ana back.

Ana answered right away. “Hey!”

“Hey, Nutter Butter.”

It had been Ana’s favorite cookie as a child and the nickname had stuck.

“Hey, Maggie!” Ana chirped. “How are you?”

Maggie felt sore and heavy all over, but she wasn’t about to tell Ana that. “I’m good. How are you? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s great!”

Ana had a way of making the world seem bright and shiny again. Their mother assured Maggie Ana had plenty of attitude, but Maggie never saw it. She felt special that Ana saved all her hopefulness and sweetness for her.

“How’s Petey?” Maggie said.

“He’s good.”

“What’s new with you, kiddo?”

“Not much, just calling to make sure you’re still coming home for my birthday.”

Maggie twitched with the extra heaping of guilt. She’d requested time off, but she hadn’t booked a flight yet.

She overcompensated. “Of course I’m coming,” she assured. “It’s not every day my little sister turns eighteen.”

Ana made a noise and Maggie knew it was a giggle-smile. She felt a little flicker of warmth in her chest. Even though she’d hardly seen Ana grow up, she remembered that noise from when Ana was a toddler.

It would be good to go home for a while. It might help her level out and get her head on right.

“I don’t wanna hear anything about you buying porn or cigarettes though,” Maggie warned playfully. “Just because you can doesn’t mean you should.”

“Eww! Maggie, why?”

Maggie laughed. She loved how sweet and uncorrupted Ana was. She knew Ana wouldn’t stay that way forever, but she wanted to preserve it as long as she could.

“Anything special you want for your birthday?”

Maggie was keenly aware that she had done better for herself than anyone else in the Sawyer family. The fact that she could send lavish gifts at Christmas and birthdays helped assuage her guilt about how seldom she went home. She knew she was expected to offer her sister something nice, and she was happy to. It was a way to take care of her.

“Well…” Ana hedged. “My dad says I’m gonna need new tires soon.”

“Every girl dreams about getting new tires for her birthday. What do you really want?”

“Um… I dunno…”

Maggie was pretty sure Ana already had something in mind but thought it was too much to ask for.

“Keep thinking about it, Nutter Butter,” Maggie said. “I gotta get ready for work. I’ll see you soon, okay?”

Ana said a cheerful goodbye and Maggie lay in bed for a minute, heavier than ever.

Even Ana’s adoration and sweetness couldn’t offset how terrible Maggie felt about Jacqui.

Maggie knew she’d been keeping Jacqui at arm’s length. Not because she meant to. It was just how she had always had to be. She hadn’t been able to tell Talia how she felt. She hadn’t been able to explain to Kate why she didn’t want to go out dancing and clubbing every night. She hadn’t been able to explain to Jillian or Darla or any of the random girls she’d dated how much she loved her job. She thought maybe Jacqui would just get it, that’d they’d have an understanding and Jacqui would be willing to accommodate her work.

But there was always the matter of the aliens.

How would Maggie have been able to explain to Jacqui she spent all her time studying and protecting them? How would she have been able to convince Jacqui that it was a worthwhile endeavor and that she wasn’t crazy? It seemed impossible, so Maggie hadn’t even tried.

So there had been this wedge between them that Maggie couldn’t dislodge no matter how much she tried. When Jacqui dumped her, she felt like the wedge was re-lodged in her chest as the biting words hit her.

Hard-headed. Insensitive. Obsessed with work. Borderline sociopathic.

The worst thing was Maggie knew some of it was true, and it smarted like a pellet gun aimed at her chest. Mostly because she’d been so hopeful this was the one that would finally work out.

Maggie looked around her room. It was messier than usual because she hadn’t been here much lately, given how often she slept at Jacqui’s. It had felt chaotic, not being home very much. At least now she’d get to spend more time here.

She liked her apartment. It was quiet and no one expected anything of her. Her bed was in a loft over the kitchen and had a nice view of the river. It was calm.

But it only took her a few minutes for that to be undone. In the bathroom she saw Jacqui’s toothbrush next to hers. She picked it up, examined it, then tossed it in the trash.

Her eyes prickled. She fought it, but she ended up wiping her cheeks a few times as she put toothpaste on her own toothbrush.

She stared at herself in the mirror as she brushed, cheeks hollowed out and eyes watery.

She was so stupid. What had she expected would happen if she put no effort into her relationship? That it would magically become everything she’d dreamed of? That Jacqui would forgive her for being careless because they had potential? That she would never have to compromise?

Maggie felt herself ratcheting up and looked down into the sink to avoid watching tears fall. She didn’t have time for a good cry now. She had to go to work, finish her reports, prepare to give testimony in a few days, and get back in her sergeant’s good graces after ruffling his feathers over Roulette.

She held strong for a few hours. As a first responder she was used to putting her feelings on pause to deal with whatever was at hand. But around lunch she felt herself start to fray at the edges and decided to call for backup in the form of plans after work. She wouldn’t fall apart if she was distracted. Plus she really did want to take Alex up on that drink offer. She liked spending time with her. It was easy and uncomplicated.

So she texted her. Wanna play pool tonight?

Alex texted back immediately. sure just tell me where

Maggie felt better, more secure in her ability to keep herself together now that she had a plan.

The rest of the afternoon flew by and before she knew it they were halfway through their third game. They’d even made a friendly wager on the outcome.

“So I’m curious,” Alex said as she leaned over the table, lining up a shot. “You said you don’t do well with partners.”

Maggie felt like the cue knocked into her chest rather than the ball. She made a withering, vague sound.

Alex sank the ball and made a quiet noise of triumph before lining up her next shot.

Maggie was painfully aware of how poorly she did with partners, but she didn’t want to get into it with Alex. They were good for a drink or a plate of pancakes or rounding up unruly aliens, but that was as far as she wanted it to go right now.

Alex missed her shot and Maggie stepped in to line up her cue, nodding toward the ball with her chin. “Four.”

Instead of the truth, Maggie stated the obvious. “Most of my colleagues feel the same way you do about aliens.” It was more cutting than she meant to be. Maggie was starting to think maybe she was always more cutting than she meant to be. “Patrolling with them makes it hard to feel like I’m really serving the community.”

Maggie took her shot and sank it.

“You don’t think you could influence them like you did me?”

Maggie cocked her head, raising her eyebrows at Alex.

“I meant what I said that night after Scorcher,” Alex said. “They’re not all bad.”

Maggie’s smile widened and she moved to take another shot. She missed it and Alex stepped up to take her turn.

“It’s just hard to remember not all aliens are bad when the only ones you deal with are.”

“Aside from Supergirl, of course,” Maggie said with only a hint of annoyance.

“Aside from Supergirl,” Alex echoed. She made her shot and lined up another. “How do cops deal?”

“We grumble about the red tape and property damage, but she mostly does good, so…”

“No, I mean how do you keep from seeing everyone as some kind of criminal? You go from call to call and no one is ever happy to see you show up.”

Maggie wasn’t sure if she should be appreciative Alex understood or offended at the implication everyone hated her. “We see plenty of innocents too. That’s who we’re protecting.” She watched Alex take another shot and sink it. “But some cops do forget.”

She thought about the most desperate, pleading faces she’d seen on calls in the last eight years. The terrified kids, the abused animals, the beaten bodies of spouses and friends. They fueled her, keeping her on the beat when she started to fatigue. She didn’t think she’d ever stop feeling like what she did mattered, like it wasn’t the most important thing in her life.

But tonight she felt too vulnerable, like thinking about them might make her cry.

Alex took a few more shots and picked the money up off the edge of the table, waving it, smugly victorious. “That’s game.”

Maggie snapped out of her thoughts. Part of her wanted to stay and keep playing. She didn’t want to go home and get in bed alone. If she could elongate her time with Alex, she could stave that inevitability off for a little while.

“What, I don’t get a chance to win my money back?”

“Uh, with the rate that you play we’d be here for hours. Your girlfriend would have to put out an APB.”

If Maggie hadn’t been so preoccupied with trying to forget about Jacqui, she might have thought it was a weird thing to say.

Instead she dropped all traces of playfulness and picked up her beer, heading for the bar to pay their tab.

“Not likely. We broke up.”

Alex was immediately apologetic and overly concerned as Maggie explained what happened. Well, a version of it. Maggie resented the pity on Alex’s face, as it only made her feel more fragile and alone. Not to mention she felt like a liar for not telling the whole story.

But no matter how she spun it, she was alone again.

Everything felt hollow and lonesome, and Maggie knew her tears were imminent.

Everyone needed a good cry now and then. But Maggie only felt comfortable crying alone in her apartment, or more specifically, her bed. She was a quiet crier, more mournful and melancholy than fitful. Still, she didn’t like anyone seeing, which meant she needed to get out of the bar as soon as possible.

“Listen, I appreciate the beer and the pool, but I think I need to go home and drink something a little harder and lose my cool.”

Alex nodded, an anxious, bewildered look on her face. “Okay. Well- wait. Feel better!”

Maggie didn’t look back, worried that Alex’s soft, caring face would only encourage the tears before she was ready for them.

She felt bad about running out on Alex. But she was too fragile and too tired to be around someone who kept her on her toes.

The ride home settled her for a moment. On her bike she felt powerful and in control, and the wind against her jacket soothed her. Once home she heated up some food and poured herself a stiff drink, settling into the couch.

She made it through one episode of How To Get Away With Murder and two large refills of her drink before the dam broke. There was no one anxious to hear about her day, no one who wanted to share the minutiae of theirs with her. There was no one to curl up beside, no one to touch or kiss or bring food to.

It was the little things Maggie missed. Little looks and touches and smiles. She realized those were the big things.

She cried for a while, quiet and shaky. After her fourth drink she turned off the TV because it wasn’t making sense anymore.

She didn’t want to be alone anymore, but she was too drunk to go anywhere, and there wasn’t anyone nearby she could call. What she needed was comfort. She briefly thought about calling Ana or even Petey, but she had enough sense about her to realize that was a terrible idea. Even drunk, she didn’t want to shatter Ana’s belief she was a successful, capable adult, and Petey wouldn’t be able to respond with the compassion Maggie needed, even if he felt it.

So she called her oldest friend Whitney, coughing and whimpering into the phone as she relayed everything that had happened in the last twenty four hours.

Whitney had always been Maggie’s mentor of sorts. Even though they’d slept together once in college, it wasn’t weird. Their friendship was a healthy mix of clever digs and genuine compassion.

Whitney listened with little clucks and noises of sympathy as Maggie told her an equally edited version of what she’d told Alex. She left out the details of how negligent she’d been. Even through her drunk haze, she could see Jacqui’s perspective well enough that she knew Whitney would too.

“I mean, maybe she’s right. Maybe I am obsessed with work. Maybe I should quit so I have time to do other things.”

“Maggie… babe,” Whitney cooed. “You’ve known you wanted to be a cop since, what, birth?”

“Before I liked girls,” Maggie said soggily.

“Right. And if she dumped you this early on, she definitely wasn’t worth it.”

“I just hate feeling like I can’t have both a career and a girlfriend. Maybe I can’t.”

“You can. But you need to hold out a little while longer, okay? You’re only thirty-one. Practically a baby.”

Maggie sniffled. “I know.”

“Someone’s gonna love you, it’s just gonna take a special woman. But you can’t sacrifice who you are to try to attract her.”

“Who am I?”

Maggie knew she must be really drunk if she was getting existential.

“You’re my hot lesbian cop friend,” Whitney said affectionately. “Lady or no lady.”

Maggie sniffled again and took a deep breath. Even after all these years, Whitney’s affirmations were transformative.

“I guess.”

“Listen. Maggie, relationships are hard. They take constant tending and compromise and checking yourself. But the good ones - and you deserve a good one, Maggie - don’t feel like a constant drain. Especially in the beginning, it should be mostly fun. So hold out for that. You’re gorgeous and smart and successful. You won’t be on the shelf for long.”

“I dunno…” Maggie sniffled.

“I know,” Whitney said. “In the meantime, call me whenever you need a pep talk.”

“Okay,” Maggie mumbled. “Sorry for calling you wasted.”

“It’s okay,” Whitney chuckled. “We all have our moments. But I’d love it if you called me sober more often. I miss you, dumbass.”

“I miss you too, dumbass.”

Maggie felt a wave of exhaustion roll over her. She managed to say goodnight before putting her phone down and drawing a blanket over herself, not even bothering to walk up the stairs and get in her bed.

The morning light was harsh as she woke. Her stomach was aching, and her muscles felt dried out and hammered, and her head was absolutely throbbing from the combination of alcohol and heavy crying.

She cursed herself for not even bothering to get a glass of water before going to sleep.

She pulled herself through the morning, opting for a cold shower to help bring down the swelling in her face and muscles. She gulped down three glasses of water and a few analgesics. She grabbed a greasy breakfast sandwich on the way to work, hoping it would help her stomach.

It was a crazy day at the precinct, of course. The universe seemed to be conspiring to make her feel as awful as possible. She got called to a crime scene shortly after an active shooting involving Supergirl.

She arrived already fed up with work for the day. She was short with her forensics team and snappy with her subordinates. The patience and measured reactions she was known for were in short supply.

It didn’t surprise her when Alex showed up just as she’d finished collecting evidence. Alien-related crime did concern Alex’s department after all. But Alex quickly jumped to asking how Maggie was doing, shifting into a tone of overbearing concern that made Maggie uncomfortable. She mustered the dregs of her patience to assure Alex she was fine.

She tried to signal to Alex that she wasn’t in the mood to chat about anything but work. But Alex kept pushing, following her to her cruiser, suggesting places they might hang out later.

“There’s a great pinball bar that I know. Or that food channel guy’s new tapas place. “

Something wasn’t adding up. There were pinball machines at Darla’s, and the tapas place had been open for months. Maggie had gone there with Jacqui.

Maggie declined. She was so heavy, all she wanted to do was go home and sleep.

Maggie pulled off her windbreaker and tossed it through the open window of her cruiser. She looked back at Alex, annoyed she wasn’t getting the hint for a second before everything clicked.

Oh.

Alex was asking her out.

Alex attempting to ask her out made a lot more sense than an elite agent trained in body language and vocal tone not picking up on her resistance to comfort. Alex could have sent anyone to that day’s crime scene. If she was concerned as a friend she could have texted or called. But she’d come herself and offered a variety of date possibilities.

“I just thought we could keep each other company.”

Yeah, Alex was asking her out. Still, Maggie wanted to double-check.

“You and me?”

“Yes! Why?”

“Nothing, I just didn’t realize you were into girls.”

The shuddering expression that passed over Alex’s face tripped Maggie up. She didn’t know if Alex was genuinely surprised Maggie hadn’t realized she was gay or if she wasn’t actually gay.

Apparently the latter.

“I’m not.”

Maggie felt something wither inside her. On a normal day she would have been able to take it, but she hated the subtle homophobia of Alex’s reaction.

Alex tried to recover, but it was too late. Maggie already knew how Alex felt. Alex thought she was “other” and “different” and all the things she’d felt so heavily growing up in Nebraska. All the things she didn’t need to feel today.

It must be that resentment that lead her to bite back with a pointed, “You’d be surprised how many gay women I’ve heard that from.”

Alex stuttered and gaped for a moment before walking away, but it was enough time for Maggie to realize she’d hit back too hard in a tender spot.

Shit.

She didn’t mean to be so insensitive.

Maybe Jacqui was right about that after all.

She didn’t know what to do. She felt terrible for being so mean when Alex was trying to be a good friend. Last night’s drunken phone call to Whitney had highlighted just how much Maggie could use some good friends.

She cursed herself, pinching the bridge of her nose with her fingers, fighting the headache that came surging back. She climbed into her cruiser and tipped her head back, feeling like the time before she could crawl into her bed in her dark apartment was stretching on infinitely.

She pulled out her phone to text Alex an apology, but before she could, her radio crackled and an urgent call came through. She took a heavy, deep breath and started the car, pulling out fast and hard as she flipped on the siren, feeling like chaos was spread thin over everything she touched.

She got a good night’s sleep that night and woke feeling heavy but not in pain. She kept her head down and toed the line at work, not wanting to cause any trouble for herself. She made some key arrests in the shooting involving alien weaponry and spent hours interrogating the suspects, hoping she would uncover their source. She really needed a win, and for a while she thought she was getting somewhere.

The guy she was grilling didn’t crack, but her colleague succeeded in breaking down his accomplice. They had enough to book both of them, plus a third party they hadn’t known about, and Maggie prepared to transfer them to County to await trial.

They had just gotten outside and Maggie was unlocking the paddy wagon when everything went to hell. It happened fast, but it burned into Maggie’s memory: the man she’d escorted outside, the seeming ringleader of his cluster of lackeys, stopped mid-sentence and collapsed, shaking for a moment before he went still. For a moment Maggie thought he was faking a seizure and would bolt, but he didn’t. When she saw blood leaking out of his ears and the glazed look in his eyes, she felt fear slice through her, cold and ruthless. When his accomplices collapsed too, she freaked.

Maggie checked his vitals and immediately knew he was dead. He had no pulse and wasn’t breathing. The pool of blood under his head was only growing. Still, she did CPR until EMS arrived. She cut open his shirt and the defibrillator was brought out from inside. She shocked him twice before EMS arrived. She did everything she should have done, but it didn’t change anything. She knew he was dead.

It was the last thing she needed.

Maggie had seen a lot of awful things. People in the midst of psychotic breaks, mangled bodies, tortured animals and children. But she’d never seen someone collapse so spontaneously, as though there was an invisible person or force murdering people right in front of her.

She leaned against the side of the building as the bodies were loaded into the ambulance. There was an air of boredom and fatigue from EMS. She understood. Still, they seemed so untouched by the fact that three lives had just ended so abruptly.

And it had happened on her watch.

Her sergeant told her to go home. Normally she would have insisted on staying through the end of her shift, but she felt that hollowness consuming her again, like she was just going through the motions. Her legs were hollow as she climbed on her bike. Her lungs moved but nothing was happening. She was looking all around but she wasn’t seeing much.

She started riding home, but halfway there she turned and went to Darla’s. For once she didn’t want to be in the quiet lonesomeness of her apartment. Maybe a drink would shock her back into her body.

She heard herself talking to the bartender, ordering three shots before perching on a stool, hunching over one of the grimy tables. She took one shot and vaguely felt it go down. She stared down at the other glasses for a minute, feeling the tingle and burn in her throat. It was comforting. She took the second and set it down as she heard a voice.

“I heard what happened. Are you okay?”

Maggie was annoyed someone had come to check on her. Her colleagues at the precinct were always breathing down her neck, pressuring her to work with a partner or debrief with them. She knew they meant well, but tonight was the last night she wanted one of them to seek her out and try to get her to talk. Talking didn’t help her usually. She always bungled her words and never managed to say what she meant.

She defaulted to giving a vague, jaded response.

But then she looked up and saw not a badge or blue windbreaker, but a soft black shirt and wavy red-brown hair framing the prettiest face in the bar.

Alex was the last person she expected to see.

She remembered that one of her mental lists included apologizing to Alex for being such a jerk the other day. So she did.

“Listen, I’m sorry if I was too forward the other day, that wasn’t my place.”

But rather than accepting the apology and moving on, Alex paused, considering, and then sat across from her.

Somehow Maggie knew immediately what was about to happen. She softened and leaned in, waiting.

She’s hit a tender spot the other day, Alex was about to show her.

Alex only got a few sentences in - “the one part of my life I could never make perfect… was dating” - before Maggie had confirmation.

She’d been right.

Her gut was always right.

Alex sat across from her, talking through what Maggie already knew. Maggie knew it on a cellular level. If she’d had less tact she might have said, “You don’t have to tell me. I know. I get it.”

But she knew there was power in saying things out loud.  
  
Alex was a stuttering, anxious mess. In turn, Maggie felt calm. She was so far from where Alex was, but she remembered with absolute clarity telling Tucker and Petey and her mom and dad. She was so far from her first desperate sloppy kiss and first time with Whitney and then Kate. She was so far from her first heartbreak.

Remembering how far she’d come made her feel settled and strong. The gutted, fragile feeling that had overtaken her since Jacqui dumped her was replaced by the weight of honor to be receiving this story from Alex, to hold her most carefully guarded secret safe. She forgot about the deaths at the precinct, she forgot about Jacqui, she forgot about her third shot of whiskey. Her entire world centered around Alex for those few minutes, regarding her as warmly and tenderly as she had wanted to be regarded sixteen years ago.

Eventually Alex spooked. There was only so much vulnerability a person could take before they shuttered up. Maggie didn’t protest when Alex left.

But she sat for a moment, thinking about what it meant that Alex had told her first.

The harsh things Jacqui had said lifted, as though they’d never been said, as though Maggie had never heard them.

Alex had trusted her with something raw and personal, and Alex didn’t trust easily.

Maybe there was hope for Maggie yet.


	7. Bombshell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The events of 2x06 from Maggie's perspective.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Muriel for her edits!

Maggie was surprised to run into Alex a few days later at the bar. It was funny how quickly Alex had adopted the place as her usual hang out, when just a few weeks earlier she’d been ready to blow the place up out of fear.

 

For a moment Maggie wondered if Alex came to the bar deliberately trying to run into her, but she saw her talking to someone in a booth and figured she was making her own contacts. Maggie wondered if she should be worried for her friends, but after seeing how Alex handled the releasing of Roulette’s captives so compassionately, she wasn’t too suspicious. 

 

Alex was kind of a mess, though. She looked like as much of a mess as Maggie felt a week ago. Maggie hated that she was in any way affected by Jacqui, because now she could see just how unbalanced that whole relationship had been. Maggie should never have felt like she had to prove something to the girl she was with. Being the faithful and honest person she’s always been should have been enough. 

 

She was glad to see Alex, because she’d gotten the sneaking suspicion Alex had been avoiding her.

 

“Danvers! You’re alive.”

 

“Yeah, uh, sorry,” Alex said, screwing up her face in embarrassment.

 

Maggie knew what Alex was apologizing for, but played dumb so Alex would actually talk about it. “For what?”

 

Alex almost glared at her, resenting the nudge.

 

But Alex wasn’t a girl to back down from a challenge.

 

“For, uh, dropping a bomb on you.”

 

Maggie brushed it aside, assuring Alex it happened all the time.

 

In truth, Maggie couldn’t recall ever being the first person someone came out to. Maybe in college, but nothing recent.

 

Alex looked scared and alone, so Maggie tried to soothe her. 

 

“How are you doing with all that?”

 

“I just… I don’t know what to do now.”

 

She realized Alex was asking to be mentored by the way she clung to Maggie’s response. She was so eager and anxious, Maggie paused. 

 

For a moment Maggie wondered if Alex liked her. If she did, it was probably only in the same way she had liked Whitney back in the day. As the closest lesbian object, she’s the default. Once Alex started dating, she’d move on.

 

Still, she kept a certain distance. She was warm and encouraging, but she tried to check herself when it came to flirting. She flirted with a lot of people accidentally, and it has landed her in a few tight spots. She didn’t invite Alex to lean on her as much as she might if the situation were different. 

 

Maggie was surprised by how easy she made coming out sound. Perhaps it was the distance of sixteen years, or the casual setting of the bar, or her usual unwillingness to be more precious than absolutely necessary. Or maybe it was just so long ago she didn’t remember how scared she was, or that she’d taken a whole year to tell her dog. 

 

When Alex suggested it might just be a phase, Maggie stiffened. She knew exactly what Alex was doing: hoping someone would let her off the hook, let her out of the discomfort of rearranging her understanding of herself. It was tough work, and Maggie was glad she’d skipped most of it. 

 

It was backpedaling that would get Alex nowhere, only stall her along the path to being able to breathe in her own skin. Maggie was particularly sensitive to it at that moment, having just been dumped and all. She understood the instinct, really, when something felt off. She understood the desire to withdraw and pretend something wasn’t happening. But she also knew it never worked. Whether she retreated or jumped, life went on. 

 

So she stared Alex down and insisted she not back away from the ledge, that she take the certainty she needed so badly. Maggie had some to spare.  

 

“It’s real.  _ You’re _ real. And you deserve to have a real, full, happy life.”

 

Alex seemed grateful for that confidence, because she asked her what to do. Maggie didn’t know how to respond. It wasn’t like there was clearly delineated protocol. But she knew Alex had a good family, a supportive mom and a loyal little sister, so she gave her the next best thing, which was what she’d done: she’d told Tucker and Petey and her parents.

 

Only after Alex left the bar did she realize how precarious her advice to come out was. She felt ashamed, like she should know better. She’d come out to her family because there’d been nothing else to do. There were no girls to date in Nebraska, no groups to join, no community to get involved in. She hadn’t even had a computer to connect with other gay kids.

 

Coming out wasn’t the right course of action for everyone. It certainly hadn’t been for Whitney, who’d been kicked out, or Emma, who’d had to endure hours of religion-based arguing, or a dozen other gay girls Maggie knew.

 

She almost texted Alex to tell her to be careful, but that seemed flippant, like writing something sincere on a Post-it and slapping it on the fridge. Plus she didn’t want to discourage Alex. Alex discouraged herself enough. Alex was a grown-up and knew her family better than anyone else.

 

But the next day Maggie still felt unsettled. The thought of Alex rushing into anything made her uncomfortable, so she called her to make a retraction. But Alex didn’t pick up, and Maggie didn’t want to leave a warning on her voicemail, so she just said, “Hey, it’s me, call me when you get a chance,” and hung up.

 

She started getting ready for her trip home to Nebraska. It would be good to go home and clear her head for a while. She picked up a new iPhone for Ana and some expensive model trains for Petey’s collection. She looked forward to the familiar faces and the chance to breathe.

 

Maggie still didn’t hear from Alex over the next few days, and that worried her. She sent a text asking how Alex was doing, but she didn’t want to seem like she was checking up on her. Even if that’s what she was doing. 

 

So when Alex sauntered into the bar the night before Maggie’s trip home, eyes a little wilder than usual, energy buzzing at a higher frequency than normal, Maggie overcompensated with a cheerful greeting, hoping to bolster Alex’s courage.

 

She was surprised Alex had acted on her advice so quickly. 

 

Maggie couldn’t believe. Alex had actually come out to her sister.

 

Maggie surged for a moment, panicked she’d ruined Alex’s life. But Alex’s face indicated it had gone well, and Maggie heaved a sigh of relief as she lifted her arms for a hug. She squeezed, hoping Alex could feel how proud she was, hoping Alex felt pride in herself enough that Maggie’s was just a bonus.

 

And then things went haywire.

 

When Alex kissed her, Maggie’s mind shorted. She felt like she was on another planet for a moment, a place of perfect stillness and absence of ego. 

 

It was wonderful until she remembered who this was and where they were and what this meant.

 

Alex coming out to her hadn’t felt like a bombshell, but this sure did.

 

She pulled back and gaped for a moment before collecting herself enough for a response.

 

Because truly, she didn’t know how to respond. Here was this trembling, beautiful, ecstatic woman, hoping Maggie would hold her hand as she took every step in her newfound identity. Which was terrifying.

 

But what terrified her most was how blind she’d been to what was happening. This was all about  _ her _ , wasn’t it? Alex had come out for  _ her _ . 

 

It was like learning someone had gotten a tattoo of her name before their first date. She wasn’t ready for that type of pressure or responsibility. It was brash and impulsive. Alex had only known her a few weeks, and she’d turned her whole world upside down for Maggie.

 

In another light it would have been flattering, but all Maggie felt was a creeping sense of horror and overwhelm.

 

She thought back to her own coming out, how it could have gone so much worse, how it  _ did _ go so much worse for girls like Whitney and Jacqui, and how she wouldn’t have been able to live with herself if Alex’s family had rejected her or made her feel inferior.

 

How stupid had she been to tell Alex to come out without knowing if it would be received well?

 

It all seemed so selfish now that she knew for sure Alex liked her. 

 

Maggie didn’t even stop to wonder if she liked Alex back. Even if she did, it was too much to take on. The agony and euphoria of being newly out were exhausting, like a second adolescence on steroids. Even looking at Alex’s hopeful face now was painful. Was that what she’d looked like when she first kissed Whitney?

 

Was she ready and willing to be every impossible thing Alex hoped she would be?

 

Her fear was deafening, and all she could hear.

 

So she let Alex down as gently as she could. She assured her she didn’t do anything wrong, that she was flattered. Above all she didn’t want Alex to feel any shame over liking women. But she drew a clear line in the sand, telling Alex what she was willing to do. And what she’s not willing to do.

 

She wasn’t willing be responsible for anyone’s heart.

 

What she didn’t say was that she didn’t want Alex to overturn her life for her sake. Alex didn’t know Maggie’s capacity for breaking hearts. And Maggie didn’t want to break any more hearts. Least of all her own. 

 

She watched Alex leave the bar in tears, wondering if that was any better than the alternative.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments make me write faster.


	8. Hope Springs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise, bitches.
> 
> I bet you thought you'd seen the last of me.
> 
> These last few chapters have been mostly done for a long time. I've been busy with my psychotherapy practice and living out fanfic irl with my new girlfriend. Things are good. I'm just sorry I've neglected this story for so long.
> 
> You may need to go back and read a little of Maggie's backstory to appreciate this particular chapter, in which she goes home to Blue Springs for a week.
> 
> In an effort to finish, I'm posting the final chapters with a little less attention to detail than I would normally. But I figure imperfect chapters are better than an unfinished story. I hope you enjoy!

Ana met Maggie inside the airport in Lincoln, running toward her and giving her the most enthusiastic hug Maggie had received in years. Ana was taller and more beautiful than last time Maggie had been home. She was statuesque and her hair was almost to her waist, but her eyes still held the innocence and admiration she’d always had for Maggie. Maggie wanted her to stay that way. 

Ana asked if it was okay if she drove them back to Blue Springs, and Maggie said it was fine. As she sat in the passenger seat she tried not to ruminate on how strange it was to entrust her life to someone whose diapers she used to change. 

Ana babbled on about the latest drama in her friend group and her plans for after high school. Maggie tried to pay attention, but she was bone-tired from her flight and the drama she’d left in National City. The night before in the bar felt like a bizarre dream. And yet the sense memory of Alex kissing her was too real to be fabricated.

Alex had actually kissed her. In public. 

“I dunno… What do you think?”

Maggie shook herself back into the passenger seat of Ana’s truck.

“Hm?"

“About me going to school in National City?”

Maggie had always made it clear she expected Ana to go to college, but not all the way out in California. Not where Maggie would be responsible for her all the time.  It felt like one more thing for her to mess up.

“National City’s a long way from Nebraska, Nutter Butter.” It didn’t sound as warm as she meant it.

It was quiet for a moment and Maggie could almost hear Ana’s hope deflating.

“I mean… that’s what you did, right? Moved out to California on your own?”

“Well, yeah, but… I had no idea what I was getting into and how alone I’d be. In hindsight it was a bigger risk than I realized.”

“Like jumping off Devil’s Bluff?”

Maggie startled. “What?”

“When you were my age you jumped off Devil’s Bluff, right?”

Maggie sputtered. “I— Who told you that?”

Ana shrugged. “People know. They ask me about it sometimes.”

“Wha— how?”

Ana looked amused, like she’d finally hooked her into an interesting conversation. “I think you’re the only girl who’s ever done it.”

Maggie tried to stifle the little swell of pride that bubbled up so she could keep Ana safe. 

“It was stupid and impulsive and if I ever hear you even thought about doing it I’ll take away the iPhone I got you for your birthday.”

“You got me an iPhone?!” Ana exclaimed.

Maggie smirked, glad Ana had taken the bait. “You bet that cute little ass I used to wipe I did.”

Ana tried to look exasperated but failed.

Maggie chuckled and leaned forward, fiddling with the radio as they barreled back to Blue Springs. 

* * *

Blue Springs was exactly the same as Maggie remembered. The roads were the same, the signs were the same. The only thing that was different was the mural behind the baseball field at Southern Elementary had been repainted after the old one was defaced, and the local pizza parlor now had an air hockey table.

In some ways it was comforting that everything stayed the same. She could always go home in that sense, and she knew it was good for Petey, who didn’t do well with change. But mostly it made Maggie sad that her family was stuck in a place that didn’t move or grow. Maybe she should have been more supportive of Ana’s plans to get out. Still, she didn’t like thought of sweet little Ana in a place like National City.

Before they went to the house Maggie’s stepdad had bought a few years ago, they stopped by the oil change place where Petey worked.  

Petey had graduated high school a few years ago and begun vocational training through a special program in Lincoln. After a few months he’d been hired at an oil change station near Blue Springs and had been working there ever since. Merle had assured Maggie everything was going well, but in the back of her mind Maggie always worried about Petey. She felt guilty for leaving him. She tried to make up for it by FaceTiming him once a week or so, but he never had much to say and struggled to look at the camera. Usually Maggie ended up watching him look around his room anxiously and asking questions that got one-word answers.

Still, she was so proud of him. He was doing better than anyone had expected him to.

He wasn’t as enthusiastic to see Maggie as Ana had been, but the smile he directed toward the ground when Maggie greeted him told her he was glad to see her. 

“It’s good to see you too, Maggie,” he said. It robotic and rehearsed, but the fact that he could say it at all was remarkable. He even managed to make eye contact for a few seconds.

“You got yourself a dream job, huh, Petey? You get to work with cars all day.”

Petey’s smile grew, still directed at the ground, but Maggie saw pride in it. The fact that Petey was proud of himself had her immediately on the verge of tears.

Maggie tried to shake it off as fast as she could. Seeing her cry would confuse Petey and make her seem less tough in front of Ana. She cleared her throat and lifted her chin, scrutinizing the place for safety hazards or anything else that seemed amiss. Petey had a handful of coworkers Maggie was suspicious of. One of them walked by wiping his hands on a dirty rag and said, “You got a girlfriend, Petey?”

Maggie opened her mouth to put the guy in his place, but she saw Petey crack an amused smile.

“Doug, this is my sister Maggie.” His voice was still regimented and he spoke slower, but his response was polite and appropriate. Maggie knew if she’d collected herself faster hers wouldn’t have been.

“Mind if I ask her out?” Doug joked, smiling at Petey.

Maggie’s eyes darted between Doug and Petey and Ana, wondering what was going on.

Petey’s grin spread wider, though his stare still fell somewhere between the ground and Maggie’s knees.

“You wish you could get a girl like Maggie, Doug.”

From somewhere inside the shop a few chuckles echoed.

Doug clucked and said good-humoredly, “Aw, man… Why you gotta be like that, Petey?” as he sauntered back inside, not even glancing at Maggie.

Maggie caught Ana’s eye. She was grinning, as though to say  _ See? He’s doing great. _

“Petey, did you just make a joke?” Maggie asked, partly as a compliment and partly in disbelief.

Petey gave Maggie’s knees a lopsided grin. “The guys like to tell jokes sometimes.”

“I bet they do,” Maggie said, studying him in a whole new light.

Petey had made a joke. Not a very good one, or an original one. But he was engaging with his coworkers in a way Maggie had never imagined he could.

* * *

Ana’s birthday celebration was exactly what Maggie expected it to be. They had pot roast and cake and ice cream and Ana opened her gifts. Ana squealed and hugged Maggie as though she were surprised by the phone, and Maggie felt bad that the gifts her parents had saved up for didn’t get quite the same reaction.

The following evening around dinner time Maggie noticed Merle was out of beer and decided to go to the store for him. She needed a breather from the constant attention of her family. She had just made it to checkout when a voice behind her called her name.

“ _ Maggie _ ?”

Maggie turned around to see Talia standing in line behind her. 

Maggie’s childhood best friend’s face had thinned while the rest of her had rounded. She had a toddler on her hip, a jug of milk in her free hand, and she looked about six months pregnant.

“I didn’t know you were in town!”

Maggie’s mouth stuck for a second before she was able to respond.

“I- Yeah, hi!” she said, trying to locate her usual easy cheer.

It was jarring to see Talia. Maggie felt silly — she should have expected it. People rarely made it out of Blue Springs. Still, it was strange to see her boy-crazy first love as an adult. A  _ mother _ , even.

“I’m just in town for a few days,” Maggie said, hoping to assuage her guilt. “Ana’s turning eighteen.”

“Oh my god, already?” Talia said, struggling to keep the toddler perched on her hip without dropping the milk.

“Yeah, time flies,” Maggie said as she reached forward and took the milk from Talia’s hand, plopping it onto the conveyor belt next to the beer for Merle.

Talia studied her, ignoring the toddler pulling on her hair.

“You look great,” Talia said. 

“Yeah, you do too.”

Maggie glanced down Talia’s arm to her left hand, secured around the waist of her child. Sure enough, there was a ring there. 

Inside, a jealous pang she thought had died years ago awoke with a fury.

“Looks like someone was finally smart enough to lock you down,” Maggie said, mustering a smile.

Talia giggled, the same silly giggle that had made Maggie melt every time in high school.

“Our oldest, Hannah, came first, but Tommy got around to proposing eventually.”

Noting the navy blue shirt with the firetruck on it on the toddler, Maggie guessed Hannah was at home.

“How many do you have?” Maggie asked.

“This’ll be number four,” Talia said, nodding down at her belly. “What about you? You got any kids?”

Maggie smiled and shook her head. 

“Married?”

“Just to my job,” Maggie said. It was the line she always used when people from home asked and she didn’t want to bother coming out to them.

“Surely you’ve got a boyfriend or something,” Talia said, looking almost offended that no one had swept Maggie up.

Maggie bit her lip and shook her head. As she did, something small crumpled in her chest. She’d never managed to come out to Talia, and she wasn’t about to do it in line at the grocery store. Talia had a lot on her hands.

Rescuing Maggie from a lull in the conversation, the teller scanned the beer and Talia’s milk together, and Talia tried to object as Maggie paid for both.

Maggie just held up her hand, giving a tense smile. “We should grab a drink sometime,” she said, hitched the beer onto her hip just like Talia held the toddler. 

“Definitely,” Talia said.

With no intention of following up on her offer, Maggie rounded out of the store as fast as she could without seeming desperate to escape. She slid the beer into the bench in the cab of the truck, starting the engine right away. 

She felt guilty for leaving. She shouldn’t have walked away from Talia so fast without an explanation, both tonight and twelve years ago. 

She didn’t want to go back to Merle’s right away. She needed some time to clear her head, to breathe the fresh Nebraska air that helped counteract the suffocating sense of being closeted again. 

Without thinking about it, she found herself headed for Devil’s Bluff in Ana's truck she'd borrowed. She wasn’t used to riding so high up after so many years of her bike or squad car. She didn’t hate it. She drove as close as she could, then hiked up to the top with the flashlight on her phone lighting the way.

It was almost a full moon, and the water below was illuminated silver and navy. She sat close to the ledge, shutting off the light on her phone, and just stared.

This was the fabled cliff she’d jumped off of as a teenager, the cliff school kids told stories about. Without meaning to, she’d become a legend simply for having the audacity to do something foolish.

But looking down at it now, the cliff wasn’t so big. It didn’t look as threatening as it had all those years ago when Maggie jumped off for a girl who could never like her back.

She thought about all the things she’d done for girls since then, the time and effort she’d poured into relationships that hadn’t worked out even when the girls liked her back. 

And she thought of Alex, who had taken such a big risk a few nights earlier.

For the first time, someone had jumped off a cliff for _Maggie_. 

Maggie’s whole life, she had been the one who ran and jumped first. Now she didn’t know what to do alone at the top of the quarry. She just sat and stared down at the water, not really seeing it. Instead she saw Alex’s crestfallen face when she told her she didn’t like her back.

Maggie wondered how truthful she’d been with Alex about only thinking of her as a friend. Maggie could like Alex back - _did_ like her back -- just wouldn’t let it take full flight.  Maggie had never had someone as brave and ambitious and dedicated as Alex. Spending time with her gave her the same sense of belonging and closeness she’d had with only a few other people.

She felt terrible about rejecting Alex the other night. Her crestfallen face projected itself in high definition in Maggie’s mind, and guilt overcame her. She needed Alex to understand it had nothing to do with her. She needed to do something to make Alex feel better. 

It was still early enough in National City to call. She pulled out her phone, relieved she got a signal, and tapped Alex’s name.

As it rang, her heart raced. She even thought about throwing her phone over the ledge and sending it the depths of the lake. What was she going to say? She wasn’t calling to say she’d changed her mind. She hadn’t. Not yet. She just needed Alex to understand that she wasn’t being rejected. Not totally. She needed Alex to know she cared about her.

But the call went to voicemail, and relief swept over Maggie like the breeze on the water below as she hung up.

Maggie sat there for a while longer. Away from Talia, she was able to find the kernel of happiness she had for her. Talia had wanted to get married and have children, and she’d done that. 

Maggie wanted a relationship too. Not a one night stand, not a fling or nebulous arrangement that fizzled or crashed when the girl realized Maggie wasn’t putting in much effort. She wanted a real relationship with someone who understood her. She’d written Alex off too quickly. Maybe in a year or so Alex's growing pains would be done and they could give it shot.

It got chilly and she trudged down the hill and back to Merle’s, sliding the case of beer onto the counter and calling to him that she’d be in to watch the end of the game in a minute.

* * *

Maggie worried a lot about Alex over the next week. She called and texted a few times, but didn’t hear back. Her whole visit to Blue Springs felt tainted by how harsh she’d been to Alex before she’d left.

Her first night back in National City, she was surprised to see Alex at a table in the bar with a group Maggie didn’t recognize. Based on their drink orders they weren’t aliens. 

“Danvers! You got a minute?”

Alex’s reluctant response didn’t soothe her worry. When Maggie approached the table and was introduced to some of Alex’s friends and her sister, she felt in over her head.

What could she say that was sincere but didn’t promise anything she couldn’t give? She still didn’t know. 

Not wanting to embarrass Alex ever again, Maggie pulled her aside to check and see if she was okay. She wasn’t quite soothed by Alex’s response, but she wanted to believe it so badly she let it go. Besides, Alex didn’t owe her anything. 

The full scope of Alex’s anger was revealed a few days later. She showed up unexpectedly in the parking lot of the precinct and told Maggie to call off an investigation. Maggie scoffed and told it was too big a favor to ask, even between friends.

Alex called her bluff right away.

“No, Maggie, we’re  _ not _ friends.”

Maggie was surprised by the blunt force behind the words, but not the words themselves.

As Alex detailed all the reasons they couldn’t be friends, Maggie felt herself shrinking. All the carelessness she’d laid on Jacqui had spilled over onto Alex. She’d gotten close to Alex -- even flirted with her a few times -- and Alex had every right to be mad.

That was what made this whole situation so uncomfortable for her; she knew she was in the wrong. She had no business taking a fledgling gay under her wing if she wasn’t prepared to weather the ups and downs it entailed. And she knew Alex liked her. She’d known from the beginning, if she was being honest. She was just able to cover up that understanding, the same way she covered herself up in leather jackets and badges and the pretense that she didn’t need other people’s softness and love.

Alex stormed off, and Maggie was left in the stark, unflattering light of Alex’s willingness to tell the truth. 

She was consumed with an urge to make amends. She wasn’t ready to face Alex yet, and Alex probably wasn’t ready accept her apology, but she wanted to try to make up for the shitty things she did had done in the past. She tried to apologize to Jacqui, who wouldn’t take her call. She apologized to another girl for leading her on. And finally, she got Talia’s number from Ana and called her.

It wasn’t easy coming out to Talia. She felt like the same terrified kid who’d told her parents half her lifetime ago. She knew the worst that would happen would be that she and Talia would continue to not talk. Still, she would feel so much better if Talia was understanding.

“Oh… yeah, that makes sense,” was Talia’s response.

Maggie chuckled nervously. “I felt weird all those years not telling you.”

“I woulda kicked your ass back then if I’d known you were keeping secrets from me,” Talia said playfully.

Maggie opened her mouth to protest that Talia wouldn’t have been able to, but Talia’s attention was diverted to one of her children for a moment and the opportunity for the friendly jab was lost.

“So you got a girl out there?” Talia asked.

Maggie felt all her nerves melt at Talia’s immediate acceptance and validation.

“Not at the moment.”

“The girls out there must be crazy about you. ‘Specially in that cop uniform.”

Maggie frowned. “How’d you know I was a cop?”

“Ana sometimes watches the kids. I’m always asking about you. Surprised she never said anything.”

There was a strain Talia’s voice as though she was lifting something. Perhaps a child onto a changing table, or basket of laundry. 

Maggie felt her guilt for cutting Talia off the second she left Blue Springs redouble. She wasn’t the only one who’d lost a friend.

“Are you happy?” she blurted.

Talia responded without hesitation. “Most of the time, which is better than most people can say.”

Maggie hummed in response.

“Sorry, honey, I gotta go,” she said. “Hannah just fell on her bike in the driveway.”

“Go, go,” Maggie urged. “We’ll talk again soon.”

She wasn’t sure if she’d follow through on the statement, but at least now the tension of the unexplained silence between them was broken.

Now all Maggie needed to do was make sure she didn’t prolong that tension with Alex.

* * *

A few nights later Maggie had a shot. Alex had asked her to lay off Guardian. She hadn’t asked very nicely, and she hadn’t given a good reason why.

But still, Maggie did something she’d never done before: she compromised her work for a girl.

Maggie knew she shouldn’t have let Guardian go. She’d have to cover up so many things in the paperwork, not to mention the monumental task of justifying it to herself. But Alex had made so many allowances for her, had been willing to turn her whole way of thinking about aliens on its head.

But letting Guardian go wasn’t enough. It wasn’t an apology. She wanted to make a real apology. This kind of apology had to be made in person, though.

She went by Alex’s place and didn’t see her bike out front. She would have just let that be that until another day, but something was gnawing at her. It had been gnawing at her for days, even since she’d stood on the edge of that cliff again. She needed to see Alex as soon as possible. But Alex wasn’t there and wasn’t answering her phone, so Maggie headed home. On the way though she got an idea. She knew Alex spent a lot of time with her sister, and even though she’d never been inside, she’d once dropped Alex off at her sister’s after a game of pool.

Sure enough, when she drove by Kara’s, Alex’s bike was outside the building.

She only knew which building it was, and she had to knock on two doors asking if they knew a Danvers. She was used to knocking on doors - she did it for work all the time - but this was different and made her anxious. She had no authority, no reason to be there other than her own miserable feelings of guilt and hope that she could soften the rejection she’d given Alex.

Plus what she wanted to say was nerve-wracking in itself.

When a grumpy old man told her to check the names on the mailboxes, she felt like an idiot. How had she, a police detective, not thought of that? She took a moment to collect herself before she knocked.

Alex answered, startled, and Maggie second-guessed whether this was a good idea.

But like jumping off a cliff, she knew she had to do it without thinking too hard or she wouldn’t follow through and just look like an idiot standing in the hallway.

Her apology came out stiff and rehearsed, but she didn’t know how she would have done it differently. It was awkward to stand there and apologize in so many words without actually apologizing. She didn’t want to give Alex any false hope; Alex had made it clear that she wouldn’t tolerate being toyed with. Instead, Maggie told her more generally how meaningful Alex’s presence was in her life. It was chopped and awkward and anxious, but she got the words out.

Alex didn’t accept the apology right away. But she listened, and offered to meet up the following night.

It wasn’t a door opening. But at the least now the deadbolt was unlocked, and Maggie had time.


	9. Forward Dive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of my favorite Maggie chapters. Enjoy!

Maggie jumped when Alex called to ask for her help, even if it was just work-related. She hadn’t figured out how to fully apologize yet, so in the meantime she’d be as responsive and helpful as possible when it came to work. She mobilized her units as fast as she could, charging into L-Corp with guns ablaze.  
  
She hadn’t even been inside thirty seconds when she got shot. It had been a long time since she’d been injured on duty; as a detective she often arrived on the scene after the excitement was over. She’d been hit by rubber bullets at the police academy that had knocked the wind out of her, but whatever she got hit with this time - a laser or some sort of chemical bullet - knocked her back harder and hurt so damn bad she was in tears before she even realized what had happened. She gasped for breath, knowing her team would continue the charge without her. But Supergirl hovered inexplicably over her, checking to make sure she wasn’t hit in any critical areas. Maggie told her to keep pursuing the cyborg.   
  
Maggie must have gone into shock because she didn’t remember much after that. She was vaguely aware of being taken somewhere. She was windy and there was a lot of hair blowing in her face. When she finally got her bearings, she was in the DEO medical bay, propped up on a gurney, her vest removed and her shirt cut off.   
  
Then Maggie’s senses were on overdrive, the rush off jumping off a hundred cliffs at once colliding in her chest. Her heart was beating furiously and colors and shapes swam in front of her. She felt cold and clammy and like every muscle in her body was locking up.   
  
Alex was hovering over her looking panicked. Everything started moving in double-time, and Maggie started to freak. She was in pain, she couldn’t breathe, and she felt like she would fall off the gurney.   
  
Maggie tried to sit up. Pain shot through her arm and shoulder and she winced.   
  
“Alex…”   
  
“It’s okay,” Alex said, visibly shaking. “Stay still. You’re gonna be okay, but you gotta stay still.”   
  
Maggie’s hands trembled as she clung to the edge of the thin gurney, and a moment later Alex’s hand was in hers, steadying her. Maggie squeezed desperately and Alex squeezed back.   
  
Maggie was breathing so rapidly, the middle-aged woman with blonde hair and a white lab coat examining Maggie’s wound offered her something to calm her down. Usually Maggie just bit into her lip or cheek and dealt with whatever fear or anxiety she felt, but this was too much. She nodded and the doctor injected some kind of tranquilizer into her arm.   
  
“You’re gonna be okay,” Alex assured her several times over the next minute, still holding her hand. “Slow breaths… easy, easy…”   
  
As the drugs hit her, Maggie felt her body unwind, every muscle unspooling as her heart settled and her vision cleared. Finally everything was still and she could breathe normally.   
  
She felt suddenly clear-headed as the doctor injected a local anesthetic into her shoulder and extracted a metallic shard that had lodged itself in her wound and put it on a tray. Alex frowned at it.   
  
The doctor murmured something to Alex as she cleaned the wound, and Alex nodded before putting on gloves and reaching for a suture kit. The doctor walked out of the room, leaving Alex and Maggie alone.   
  
It was surreal, laying there topless but for a sheet in front of Alex. Whatever drugs she’d been given made it seem almost normal, and made her calm enough that she didn’t feel she had to say anything. The worst was over, and Alex was there, making sure she was okay. She felt like she’d jumped off a cliff, but rather than crashing down, she’d drifted slowly into a peaceful hot spring.   
  
Still, when she felt the puncture of the first suture, she winced on reflex, even though it didn’t hurt.   
  
“You okay?” Alex asked.   
  
Maggie assured her she was and threw in a joke to prove it. Alex chuckled and joked back, and Maggie settled deeper into the awkwardly-angled gurney. Things must be okay if they could joke like that.   
  
Alex seemed lighter than usual. She started chatting, casual and in good spirits as though they were out getting a drink. Maggie remembered that Alex had been to medical school and thought how lovely Alex’s bedside manner was. Alex was making an effort to take Maggie’s mind off getting shot, which was both appreciated and effective.   
  
Alex kept chatting about her latest experiences coming out. She told Maggie she’d come out to her mom, giggling a little bit when Maggie asked her how it had gone.   
  
But then, as she usually did, Alex slid into something more meaningful and earnest, though she didn’t lose her brightness.   
  
“You know, when I first realized I was gay… well, I denied it.”   
  
Maggie’s face spread in a grin. Alex hadn’t used that word before. She remembered the first time she’d said the word _gay_ to her dog sixteen years ago, how exciting and scary it had been.

“And then I thought it was just about _you_ , because - how could I _not_ like you?”   
  
Maggie winced at the compliment, both because she didn’t know how else to react and because she was impressed with Alex’s willingness to talk about it.   
  
“But you know, I think, deep down, I wasn’t comfortable that that was my new normal. But it _is_ my new normal.”   
  
Alex slowed down, smiling, and Maggie felt like Alex was giving too much.   
  
“And I’m happy that is, because… I don’t know. I feel like I finally _get_ me. And now I realize that it wasn’t about you. It’s about me living my life.”   
  
She said it with the same authenticity and intensity Maggie had come to expect from her. But what was new was the fact that Alex was genuinely joyful and free. It looked beautiful on her. Maggie saw a confidence she hadn’t seen before, and couldn’t tear her eyes away.   
  
And then Alex thanked her, as though Maggie had something to do with Alex’s realization. All Maggie had done was tell her she was real. Alex had done the rest. Alex was a mature, self-aware person, going through the paces of coming out without chaos. She was quick and adaptive and gracious. Maggie could hardly believe Alex was crediting her with any of that.   
  
But she didn’t want to argue or detract from Alex’s happiness.   
  
“Anytime.”   
  
And then Maggie realized this wasn’t an anytime situation. It was a singular opportunity. Once-in-a-lifetime, maybe.   
  
A beautiful, available woman who could match her intellect, drive, ambition, and heart, all while understanding the importance of her work, liked her. And not just because she was the only gay person around as Maggie had originally feared. Alex understood she had options and still liked _her_ .   
  
It wasn’t just that Alex was smart and ambitious and beautiful. There were lots of smart, ambitious, beautiful women in the world. What captivated Maggie was how Alex was always so real and personal. There was an immediacy to Alex that sometimes alarmed her: when Alex felt something, she let people know right away. She didn’t censor or edit or pause. And while sometimes it was overwhelming, it was never less than genuine and honest. Maggie realized she loved Alex’s intensity more than anything.   
  
Maggie held Alex’s gaze for perhaps too long. Then Alex started tidying up, throwing away the packaging of the suture kit, taping gauze over Maggie’s wound. She bent down and pulled something out of a cabinet, placing it in Maggie’s lap. Maggie saw that it was a clean black shirt like the one Alex was wearing.   
  
“I’ll send someone in to help you put that on. Can I get you anything else? Food, water, more drugs?”   
  
Maggie shook her head, still smiling.   
  
“I could send Supergirl in. She tends to make people feel safe.”   
  
Maggie almost made a joke along the lines of _I thought I was talking to her_ , but she didn’t want to make light of anything, so she just said, “I feel safe.” She’d find time to tell Alex how much she appreciated her when she wasn’t drugged and half naked.   
  
Alex gave a short nod and an approving smile. “I’m gonna analyze that shard we just pulled out of your shoulder and make sure there’s nothing we should be concerned about. But otherwise, as soon as you’re feeling up to it, you’re free to go,” she said affectionately.   
  
Maggie knew Alex meant she was free to leave the DEO, but it felt like more than that. Alex was giving her permission to walk away without guilt or regret.   
  
But as Alex patted her knee and turned to go, Maggie didn’t want to. 

* * *

Maggie was taken home in an armored DEO car. She made it into her apartment and drank some water, hungry but too tired to cook. She ate a handful of crackers and a few slices of cheese before laying down on the couch, glad to be horizontal. Her shoulder ached, and she knew the pain would get worse as the local anesthetic wore off. Preemptively, she took the Vicodin she’d been given by the med tech who’d helped her into Alex’s shirt.   
  
Twenty minutes later, everything was hazy and soft around her. The lights outside her loft window seemed to glow and twinkle. Things looked a little strange and time felt elastic.   
  
She’d had a crazy night. Everything felt like a dream or something that happened to someone else. She felt like she wasn’t quite real.

She’d been _shot_.   
  
Then things tilted and everything felt warped and she was frightened. She didn’t want to be alone.   
  
She wondered if Alex was still at the lab analyzing the shard and thought of calling her. She wanted to talk to her. But she didn’t know what she’d say that wouldn’t sound drugged and needy. Even if she _was_ drugged and needy.   
  
She scrolled through her phone, almost all the way to the end, where she came upon the name of one person who usually steered her right. She tapped Whitney’s name, realizing too late that she’d hit FaceTime instead of a regular voice call.   
  
“Hey, you! Everything okay?” Whitney answered in an anxious whisper.   
  
Whitney looked older, her face thinned under her chunky glasses. But she still had the same short, spiky hair and fierce look in her eyes.   
  
“I got shot tonight,” Maggie said, her voice sounding distant and droning.   
  
“Are you shitting me?”   
  
“No…” Maggie drawled. “Went right into my shoulder.”   
  
“How are you not in the hospital right now?” Whitney demanded.   
  
“It was a laser,” Maggie said, realizing she sounded drunk. “They sent me home after they stitched me up.”   
  
“You coulda led with the laser part,” Whitney said, running a hand over her face and under her glasses to wipe at her eyes. “Giving me a fucking heart attack over here.”   
  
“Sorry…” Maggie slurred. “I… might be a little fucked up right now.”   
  
“Is there someone there with you?”   
  
“No…” Maggie drawled, her eyelids feeling heavy. She closed her eyes and almost dozed off, but the tinny sound of Whitney talking to her through the speaker kept her conscious.   
  
“Mags, you don’t look so good.”   
  
“I messed up so bad, Whitney.”   
  
“I’m sure you’ll get a debrief at the precinct whenever you’re ready to go back in. And if you need to talk to someone before that, do it. Don’t bottle it up, okay? That’s how people burn out.”   
  
“No, I messed up with a _girl_.”   
  
“Oh. Okay, that’s easier.”   
  
“ _False_ .”   
  
Whitney snickered. “What’d you do this time?”   
  
Maggie tried to sound offended. “What do you mean ‘ _this time_ ’?”   
  
Whitney sidestepped the opportunity for a dig. “What happened?”   
  
“I just- I didn’t realize I liked her so much until, um... an hour ago. Maybe two hours ago. The timing’s fuzzy. I mean, I knew I liked her, just not… this much.”   
  
“So what’s the problem?”   
  
“She came onto me a few weeks ago and I didn’t— I didn’t handle it very well and now she thinks I’m not interested.”   
  
“What’s her name?”   
  
“Alex,” Maggie said, feeling a clutch in her chest that had nothing to do with her injury.   
  
“You sure this isn’t just morphine talking?”   
  
“No. I mean yes. Yes, I’m sure. They didn’t give me morphine. She’s…”   
  
Maggie thought about that night in the diner they’d spent sharing war stories, laughing and talking until the wee hours of the morning. Maggie should have known right then Alex was special. And Alex had only proven herself smarter and braver and more beautiful every time they’d seen each other since.   
  
“Whitney, she’s amazing. She’s- she’s _so_ smart, and so strong, and god help me if I ever have to fight her because she could deck me in two seconds.”   
  
“Wow.”   
  
“She’s like Lara Croft with more manageable boobs. She’s _so_ beautiful, and I just feel so dumb for jerking her around… She deserves better than that. She deserves better than _me_. And I-”   
  
“Hold up. Did you just say she’s like Lara Croft with more manageable boobs?”   
  
Maggie covered her face in embarrassment, but she couldn’t help the smile that peaked out around her hand.   
  
“She’s… insanely attractive. But she’s just coming out and I don’t want - I just want everything to be perfect for her. And I don’t think I…” Maggie trailed off, not sure what she meant to say. She wanted Alex’s first relationship to be soft, gentle, and as positive and loving as possible.   
  
“Maggie,” Whitney said, a hint of adoring impatience on her face. “You know the last time I heard you talk about a girl like this?”   
  
Maggie moved her hand and stared at Whitney’s grainy face, waiting for the answer.   
  
But Whitney only raised her eyebrows, waiting for Maggie to answer the question herself. Maggie stumbled for a minute, then knew.   
  
Of course. Her first love.   
  
“Shit,” she muttered.   
  
Whitney nodded smugly and Maggie covered her face again.   
  
She took an effortful breath, feeling her shoulder ache with the movement. “But see, she works for-“ Maggie almost said too much in her drugged stupor, but caught herself just in time. “She works for this agency that kinda butts heads with the NCPD. And I don’t wanna ruffle any feathers at work… I just got promoted a few months ago…” She trailed off, feeling like she was talking more to herself than Whitney.   
  
“You can make all the excuses you want, but you called me to help talk you _into_ it rather than out of it.”   
  
“But it does bother me.”   
  
“It’s not like she’s a Republican, right?”   
  
Maggie gave a half-hearted chuckle. “No… I’m just… looking for excuses.”   
  
“You worried she’s not really gay?”   
  
Maggie shook her head. She was certain Alex was gay.   
  
“So there might be some growing pains. But stop being an idiot. She sounds perfect.”   
  
Maggie sighed, looking up at the ceiling beyond her phone. It seemed to warp and wave as she stared at it. “I’m so high right now.”   
  
Whitney laughed. “I noticed. What’d they give you?”   
  
“Painkillers and some kind of tranquilizer to calm me down.”   
  
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you stoned.”   
  
“I… don’t like it,” Maggie said, brow crinkling as she ran a hand over her forehead. “I feel fuzzy.”   
  
“Yeah, maybe don’t call this girl until you come down. Save stoned Maggie for a later date.”   
  
“She was there when they tranqued me. She held my hand until it kicked in and then she stitched me up. She did a really good job.” Maggie tugged sloppily at the collar of her shirt to show the bandage Alex had put over her stitches.   
  
“So she’s seen you topless.”   
  
“Shut up,” Maggie said. “She was very professional.”   
  
“Sure,” Whitney said amusedly.   
  
There was a lull in the conversation and Maggie felt herself get even sleepier.   
  
“Are you okay? Like for now?” Whitney asked.   
  
“Yeah…”   
  
“You sure you don’t need to call someone to come be with you?”   
  
“No… I’m okay.”   
  
“Okay. Well, as much as I’m enjoying the spectacle that is you tripping balls, it’s three in the morning and I’d like to get back in bed with my lady and sleep for a few more hours.”   
  
“Wait… fuck… I called you at three a.m.?”   
  
“You did.”   
  
“I’m sorry, Whitters.”   
  
“Don’t worry about it. It was good to see your face. And don’t call me Whitters.”   
  
“Okay…” Maggie said, head tilting to the side as her eyes closed. “Night, Whitters.”   
  
Maggie hung up and took a breath, laying her phone on her chest.   
  
Next thing she knew it was late morning and her phone chimed with a text from Alex asking how she was feeling. She replied that she was a little groggy but okay, then put the phone back on her chest.

Staring at her ceiling, she realized for the first time what had really happened.  
  
She’d been _shot_. Sure, it was by some kind of weird alien laser, and the metal shard was probably just a piece of shrapnel. But she’d been _shot_ .   
  
All the drugs she’d been given had worn off, and Maggie felt herself tensing, which hurt both her shoulder and her chances of sleeping any more. She was shaken by how close she’d come to being killed or seriously injured. She’d been too zealous running in to save the day. She should know better by now.   
  
She should know better about a lot of things.   
  
Like how telling herself not to like someone doesn’t work, and how there were many kinds of stupidity, and how she seemed to oscillate between running into situations without thinking and thinking herself in circles around something so simple.   
  
Alex wasn’t some simpering, timid young girl who needed her hand held through everything. Alex listened to Maggie more than Maggie realized. She reflected and processed things deeper than she seemed to.   
  
Alex had told her she was ready to live her life, which left Maggie wondering: was she ready to do the same?   
  
Maggie got up and poured some cereal. She drank some juice and checked under her bandage to see how her wound was doing. She called her sergeant to tell him she’d be taking a day or two off. She checked her email and replied to some other texts.   
  
Maggie couldn’t jump after Alex right away. Her feet wouldn’t carry her over ledges anymore without thinking. But she thought about how she wanted to land, how she wanted to be received in the water if she didn’t drown.   
  
Maggie felt like a middle schooler again. It would have been one thing if Alex had been seasoned or if they’d met in a different context, or if she hadn’t rejected Alex on reflex. But they hadn’t, and Maggie was out of her depth.   
  
She called Whitney, assuring her she was okay and apologizing for FaceTiming her while high as a kite at 3 a.m., and asked Whitney’s practical advice on how to approach Alex.   
  
“How do I tell her I like her?”   
  
“Just make it sincere and personal. You’re good at that.”   
  
“Am I?”   
  
“Yes. But Mags - don’t take this the wrong way - don’t make it about sex.”   
  
“What? Why would I…” Maggie frowned, confused.   
  
“You do that a lot and it doesn’t work for you.”   
  
“Do what a lot?”   
  
“Use sex as a way to feel close to people without actually getting close to them.”   
  
Maggie was silent for a moment, picking at her nail. She thought about the last few years, all her one night stands, her relationships with Darla and Jacqui. She hadn’t thought of it that way. Hearing Whitney explain it to her so clearly hurt more than she expected.   
  
“I didn’t ask to be called out like that,” she mumbled, hoping she sounded at least a little teasing.   
  
“It’s not necessarily a bad thing,” Whitney said, backpedaling. “It just doesn’t work for you. Look, you said this girl is newly out, and you know how that is, what the stakes are… just take it slow. Even if she weren’t new, you gotta romance her if being close to her is what you want.”   
  
Maggie smoothed her thumb over the nail she’d been picking at. “It is.”   
  
“Good.” There was a pause and Maggie could feel Whitney’s smile. “I can’t wait to hear what romancing Lara Croft is like.”   
  
“You better not tell anyone I said that,” Maggie said, trying to sound threatening.   
  
Whitney chuckled back. “It was cute. Just be yourself, Maggie. Who you are is great.”   


* * *

  
Maggie knew she couldn’t stand over the cliff forever.   
  
Jacqui had always wanted Maggie to make plans and put thought into their time together. She hadn’t been able to do it for Jacqui, but making plans for Alex was effortless. She made a plan and set it in motion, picking up pizza and beer. She didn’t let herself pace the hall outside Alex’s apartment, only allowed herself a few deep breaths.  
  
Every deep breath Maggie took ached and stretched her wound. But it only served as a reminder of what she needed to do.

If she overthought it, she’d never jump.   
  
She knocked and when Alex answered, Maggie felt a rush of certainty. Alex looked even more beautiful than the picture of her in Maggie’s mind. Maggie walked in, taking a moment to orient herself. She found herself pacing anyway, babbling and wishing she’d thought through what she wanted to say.   
  
Without realizing it, Maggie heard herself echoing Whitney.   
  
“We should be who we are.” She meant it far beyond accepting their sexualities. It was deeper; Maggie had always been who she was. She hadn’t given up hope that she could be all of herself without conflict. She was a cop, and would always be a cop, and she wouldn’t choose a girl over that. And she also deserved to be loved.   
  
“And we should kiss the girls we wanna kiss.”   
  
She paused to gauge Alex’s face, to see if she understood where Maggie was going. Alex looked like she didn’t dare hope this could have anything to do with her. It pained Maggie so see such insecurity on her face.   
  
But then - unmistakably - Alex’s eyes fell to Maggie’s lips, staring with a yearning Maggie should have recognized a long time ago.   
  
“And I really just—“ She shook her head to banish the disbelieving look on Alex’s face, to assure her she was talking about her. “I want to kiss you.”   
  
Alex blinked and her eyes flew to Maggie’s lips again. Maggie lifted her hand toward Alex, pausing just long enough to make sure what she was about to do was okay. Alex leaned forward almost imperceptibly, and Maggie knew the door was open. She lifted her hands to cup Alex’s face, not even caring about the ache in her shoulder as she moved her arm.   
  
Alex’s response was immediate and wonderful. After a moment of surprised stiffness, she loosened and kissed back as if they’d done this a thousand times. Her hands alighted on Maggie - one on her good shoulder, the other on her cheek.   
  
Maggie pulled back after a few slips because she didn’t want to do what she usually did. She didn’t want to lose the kiss in a second or third.   
  
Alex deserved to have a first kiss she could remember fondly.   
  
Truthfully, she didn’t think her heart could handle beating that fast for much longer. She’d said what she needed to say, with words and lips, and now she needed to breathe and hear Alex’s response.   
  
Alex was breathless for a minute, and Maggie braced herself for the rejection she thought she probably deserved. But it didn’t come.   
  
Instead, there was laughter, and joyful disbelief, and more kisses than Maggie could have hoped for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapters will be posted this weekend.
> 
> Please share your thoughts. Connecting with readers is my favorite part of writing fic.


	10. All That We Let In

  
Maggie finished applying her lipstick and slipped it in her purse seconds before the doorbell rang. They’d been dating a few weeks, and every date felt like a next step into this adventure together. She could be setting out on one unsteady heel, only to trip and fall. Or it could be the best decision she ever makes. Regardless, she’s trying to be brave.

 

Alex made being brave easier than she expected. 

 

She thought of something Whitney said to her recently: “Loving someone is an act of courage, Maggie.”

 

Alex took her to a nice restaurant that felt so far from Blue Springs, it might as well be on another planet. She wasn’t exactly uncomfortable, but she wasn’t at ease either, and Alex must have sensed it, because after they’d split the check, Alex invited her over for a glass of wine and dessert.

 

“A glass of wine,” Maggie said, not sure if it was a question. She added, “Sounds great.” Half of her needed to make it a statement because she was fairly certain Alex was not inviting her to spend the night, but she needed that clarity.

 

“What did you have in mind for dessert?”

 

“Oh, I don’t know… we could make cookies?”

 

Maggie lifted an eyebrow. “I didn’t realize I was dating Betty Crocker.”

 

Alex looked embarrassed. “Kara once said she thought baking cookies with someone would be romantic.”

 

Maggie looked at her amusedly. 

 

“I probably shouldn’t take advice from my little sister. She doesn’t date a lot,” Alex said.

 

Maggie shifted her smile to be less mocking and more forgiving. “Cookies sound great.”

 

They went back to Alex’s apartment to bake, and Maggie felt positively giddy with the simple domesticity of it.

 

There was kissing and even a little grinding until they realized they’d burnt the cookies and dissolved into giggles. Laughter was more powerful than any wine, and there was a sudden, natural intimacy between them that Maggie hasn’t felt before. 

 

Alex told her things with such ease. She told her about her childhood, how she first learned about aliens, how Kara came to live with them.

 

Maggie was only thrown for a brief loop when Alex told her Kara was Supergirl.

 

It made total sense, though. Really, Maggie should have figured it out. But she was glad Alex told her, glad Alex showed her she trusts her and wants emotional intimacy more than anything.

 

Maggie does too. She wants that emotional intimacy so badly it physically aches. It’s the same ache she mistook for arousal so often. She’s tried to fuck her way to closeness too many times. With Alex, she’d rather err on the side of caution than jump into bed too quickly, both for her own sake and for Alex’s.

 

This is one relationship she can’t mess up. There is so much pure potential between them, Maggie is afraid it’s her last shot.

 

So she kept things clothed and not quite PG-13, but close enough. Alex wasn’t giving her any cues that she wants to go further, so they didn’t.

 

Instead they adventured throughout the city that suddenly felt new to them. Everything was more interesting and fun, colors and textures and flavors more vibrant, as though Alex’s presence had a mild psychedelic effect on Maggie’s consciousness. 

 

They usually ended up at Alex’s for a glass of wine, occasionally at Maggie’s if they wanted scotch or bourbon. Maggie made sure to keep it to one glass so she could drive home or take Alex back to her place safely. Sobriety also allowed her level headedness when things heated up.

 

But one night she let Alex convince her to have more than a glass of wine. They were having such a good time, and once the bottle was empty, Alex kissed her, tipsy and giggling and happy, and they stumbled toward the couch. They landed with Alex on her back.

 

“Woman down,” Alex said with a joyful smile as she pulled Maggie closer.

 

Maggie laughed and continued kissing all over, and Alex's laughter shifted to soft pants and whines. Laying on top of her, Maggie could feel Alex’s warmth even through their clothing. 

 

Maggie knew the progression. The way Alex was wriggling under her, arching her neck and panting meant the next step was to slide her hand under Alex's shirt and wait to see how she reacted. Maggie wanted to know what Alex felt like, wanted to see Alex’s face when she touched her. 

 

She slipped her hand up, feeling the skin flare with goosebumps. Alex grinned and panted, spreading her fingers wider over Maggie’s back, encouraging her. Maggie slid up further, feeling the so-soft skin of Alex's stomach, feeling her muscles twitch, feeling her breathing accelerate as she gently gripped Alex’s breast over her bra. Her tongue worked over Alex's collarbone, almost numb from the wine. 

 

That numbness stopped her. As good as this felt, as much as she wanted to take off Alex's top and use her mouth on her breasts and stomach and sides, this wasn't what she wanted for Alex. As someone who found Alex ridiculously attractive she really, really wanted to undress her. But as Alex's friend and girlfriend, she wanted more for her than a tipsy, fumbling, accidental first time. 

 

“Hey, um," Maggie said between kisses she regretted she was going to stop. “I think…” She gave a few more juicy kisses to Alex’s neck. “We should continue this another time."

 

“What? Why?"

 

Alex looked confused and a little offended. Maggie nodded toward the empty bottle of wine. 

 

“Oh... I'm okay," Alex argued. 

 

“I know," Maggie said, painfully aware she was placating Alex. “But I don’t think tonight’s a good night. For several reasons.”

 

Alex let out a slow but still frustrated sigh. “Okay..." she said, deflating into the couch.

 

Maggie sat up and combed her hair back with her fingers. 

 

“You're probably right,” Alex grumbled. “Just don’t - don’t feel like you have to handle me with kid gloves.”

 

“I won’t. Just wanna bring my A game," Maggie said with a subtle wink. 

 

“I’m gonna hold you to that.” 

 

“Please do.”

 

Alex sat up and gave her a gentle kiss on the lips. Then her face shifted into a look of anxiety. 

 

“Is something wrong?”

 

Maggie realized her trepidation must have shown. “I have to be in court first thing tomorrow anyway and um… after we  _ do _ … I’ll probably want to stay in bed with you all morning.”

 

“Oh…  _ Yeah _ . Yeah, of course. Of course…” 

 

“You don’t sound so sure.” Maggie’s tone was teasing but her concern was real.

 

“No, I just hadn’t… thought that far.”

 

Maggie nodded, realizing she’d been right to pump the breaks tonight. If the thought of spending a morning in bed together made Alex nervous, Maggie needed to slow things down.

 

“I would love to stay,” Maggie said, looking at Alex warmly. “But I’m gonna call a Lyft and make sure I give coherent testimony tomorrow.”

 

Alex nodded, understanding but distracted.

 

“To be continued?” Maggie asked.

 

Alex nodded again, looking at Maggie with a sad smile.

 

Maggie leaned forward and gave her a quick, firm kiss. “Night, babe,” she said, picking her jacket up from the arm of the couch.

 

“Night,” Alex called after her.

 

* * *

 

For the next two weeks Maggie took painstaking care to plan dates that wouldn’t land them in a situation like that. She still hung out in Alex’s apartment, but she always made sure she had an exit strategy. She used it as an exercise in planning dates, since that was one of many things she wanted to get right with Alex. She took her to restaurants and comedy shows and made her dinner. They walked along the promenade and stopped for ice cream. Maggie took her to a girl bar for the first time and kept a hand or arm on her the whole time until she felt comfortable. They baked and burned more cookies and laughed about it.

 

One night Maggie took Alex to a gin bar known for their signature gin and tonics. They sat around a table made of a halved barrel and talked.

 

“Do lesbians really trim their nails before sex?”

 

Maggie’s eyes impulsively darted down to Alex’s nails. They were short as usual, both because she chewed them and because she kept them short for work.

 

“Um… Yeah, it’s a pretty standard courtesy. Unless your partner is into that.”

 

“Are you?” Alex asked pointedly.

 

Maggie knew Alex wasn’t really asking about fingernails. 

 

“No.”

 

“What  _ are _ you into?”

 

Maggie shifted.

 

“Nothing out of the ordinary.” 

 

“I don’t really know what the ordinary is, so you’re gonna have to specify.”

 

“You really wanna talk about this?” Maggie asked with a smirk meant to mask her hesitation.

 

“Unless you don’t want to.”

 

“It’s not that I don’t want to... I’m just a little surprised.”

 

Alex shrugged. “That’s where we’re going, isn’t it?”

 

“Well  _ yeah _ , but…”

 

“But?”

 

Maggie let out a little sigh and looked everywhere but at Alex. “I don’t want that to be all this is about.”

 

“Of  _ course _ not. But that’s part of it, right? And I’ve never really been…  _ excited _ about that part of being with someone. So indulge me and my silly questions.” 

 

Maggie’s eyes shifted back to Alex. Alex had a nervous-happy smile on, and if talking about the minutiae of sex with women would help her feel more comfortable, Maggie would talk until she was blue in the face.

 

“All right. What do you want to know?”

 

Alex screwed up her mouth as she thought. “What’s your favorite part of being with a woman?”

 

Maggie wondered if she’d be able to distill all that joy and tenderness down to its essence. She couldn’t explain how gratifying a little shiver or moan could be in the right context, how a single satisfied sound could unravel her past recognition, or describe all the different types of softness there were within one girl.

 

But those things weren’t her favorite part.

 

She hesitated. She thought about Whitney’s warning to not mistake sex for closeness.

 

There were a lot of things she could have said, many ways she could have avoided answering. But she craved the honesty Alex offered her.

 

Her favorite part of being with a woman wasn’t sex. Sex was great, of course. But her honest answer sounded sentimental to the point where it seemed fake, but it was the truth, and Alex had always given her the truth.

 

“I guess, um… Well, this is gonna sound sappy, but… afterwards. When everything’s quiet and we’re just laying there together. Not that I don’t enjoy the during part. I do. A  _ lot _ . It’s just… there’s a ton of variety, and it’s different with each girl. But the after part is pretty consistent. If the girl stays, I mean. When it’s someone I care about.”

 

Alex considered her for a moment, and Maggie hoped she wouldn’t ask about the girls who didn’t stay. But part of her wanted to admit she didn’t let all girls stay, and that if ever she was certain she wanted a girl to stay, it was Alex.

 

Luckily Alex let that tender spot go untouched for a moment.

 

“Okay. But is there, like, one specific thing you can’t live without?”

 

Maggie tilted her head. She considered answering with specifics, like how she had been disappointed when a girl didn’t want to kiss after oral sex, or one girl she’d slept with a few times who didn’t make a single noise the whole time they fucked, or that one girl who was really into biting to the exclusion of a lot of other things.

 

But that kind of detail felt like bringing other girls into the conversation. So instead she said, “Not that I can think of.”

 

“I just wanna make sure I fit the bill.” 

 

“I’m not worried about that at  _ all _ ,” Maggie assured her.

 

“Why not?”

 

Maggie shifted closer to Alex, trying to convey ease. “You can tell a lot about how a person will be in bed before you sleep with them.”

 

“What can you tell about me?” Alex asked nervously.

 

“Well…” Maggie said, drawing it out for her own pleasure. “Based on the way you kiss, I can tell you’re eager to please, but uh… in the best way. You don’t mind when someone else takes the reins. And you probably don’t like anything too rough.  _ Passionate _ , but not rough.”

 

“Is that, um… Is that gonna be a problem?”

 

Maggie chuckled and shook her head, hoping Alex heard her flirtation when she said, “Not at all.”

 

Alex gave a nervous smile. “Anything else?”

 

Maggie considered. She could keep going in the general direction of reassuring Alex, or she could test her a little bit to see how she was feeling.

 

“I’m sure you’ve got a few surprises up your sleeve. But if you want to get super specific… you’d rather be thought of as a good girl than a bad girl.”

 

Alex squeezed her eyes shut for a moment.

 

“Uh  _ huh _ ,” Maggie said with smug satisfaction.

 

She scooted toward Alex, weaving her hand around her waist and kissing her for good measure, to seal the thought into Alex as best she could.

 

Alex curled into her, wrapping her arms around Maggie so that Maggie felt unexpectedly surrounded. She kissed deeper, then pulled back just far enough that she could talk.

 

“Take me somewhere,” Alex whispered. 

 

“Hm?”

 

“Your place or mine. Just…  _ take _ me somewhere.”

 

Maggie shifted with realization. “You sure?” 

 

Alex opened her eyes, gaze searing into Maggie. “I have been waiting to feel this way for twenty-eight years. I’m sure.”

 

“No pressure,” Maggie said. It was meant to be a joke, but her voice was flattened by the intensity of Alex’s gaze.

 

“No pressure,” Alex assured her earnestly. “Just…” She gave a little shrug over Maggie’s shoulders. “Happiness.”

 

Alex reached forward to kiss her again, and Maggie was spurred into action. She took out her wallet and paid their tab, keeping a hand on Alex at all times, as though she might float away otherwise. She led Alex out and hailed a cab, opening the door and tucking Alex inside before swinging in after her. 

 

She reached for Alex’s hand again, gripping it firmly. She wanted to keep kissing her, but she wasn’t sure how that would be received by either Alex or the cabbie.

 

Alex didn’t seem to care, though, because she leaned over and started placing her mouth on the side of Maggie’s neck, making Maggie shiver and her eyes flutter closed as pressure slung between her legs. 

 

The ride took forever, but eventually they arrived at her apartment. She led Alex in slowly, hoping nothing she did would spook Alex. But Alex wasn’t spooked. She reached for Maggie’s face immediately, kissing her as Maggie’s hand reached to hang her keys on the hook and missed, dropping them. 

 

“Do you want some water?” Maggie offered.

 

Alex shook her head, still honed in on Maggie. “I want you.”

 

Maggie was breathless for a minute before she let herself give into Alex’s pull, kissing her ravenously.

 

From there it was a steady tumble up to Maggie’s bed in the loft. Maggie could feel the subtle tremble of Alex’s hands, but Alex was nothing if not brave. Maggie could taste certainty on her lips and feel joy in every little tangle or bump. Alex was the same in bed as she was everywhere else: alarmingly present and intense and authentic. Maggie was ignited by it.

 

Alex wasn’t the first girl Maggie had shown the ropes, but she was the most meaningful. When she slipped her hand between them and ran her fingers through Alex for the first time, Alex tucked her head against Maggie’s neck as she quivered and let out a whine that both surprised and delighted Maggie.

 

Maggie loved showing Alex how good sex could be. She took pride in being trusted with it. But she also knew it could be overwhelming. She asked in a warm, almost teasing voice, “You okay?”

 

Alex nodded, brushing her lips against Maggie’s neck. She made a noise that might have been a word, but not one Maggie recognized. 

 

“What was that?”

 

“More than okay,” Alex breathed after she collected herself.

 

Maggie slipped her fingers through Alex again, feeling the shivers rock against her, and couldn’t keep her smile contained. 

 

She loved this. 

 

No. 

 

This was different.

 

She loved  _ her _ . 

 

She faltered for a moment at the realization. It was so abrupt, Maggie froze.

 

Was she mistaking sex for intimacy again? Was her thinking clouded by the presence of a naked woman in her bed?

 

Maybe. 

 

But no. No, touching Alex didn’t feel like touching anyone else. It felt more tender and perilous than another girl could be. 

 

Alex tensed, untucking her head to look up at Maggie. “What?”

 

Maggie realized she’d paused.

 

Maggie swallowed. “You just-- you feel really good.”

 

Alex pinked and let out a breathy laugh. “I thought I did something wrong.”

 

“Definitely not,” Maggie murmured, bringing her mouth to Alex’s as she started moving her fingers again.

 

Alex shivered and Maggie moved through her and with her, working her up as gently and earnestly as she could, watching her, captivated. Alex clung to her, jerking with pleasure, and whispered and whined in Maggie’s ear, which wound Maggie up. When Alex came, Maggie felt it around her fingers, but also in her chest. Something broke through. She wasn’t worried she was mistaking sex for something else.

 

This  _ meant _ something. To both of them.

 

If she hadn’t been overwhelmed already, the determination and effort Alex put into returning the favor certainly would have done it. Alex fumbled, asking again and again if something was working. Maggie was so turned on from Alex’s noises and from touching Alex she didn’t need a masterful touch. It was easy to be reassuring when it was genuine. Only a few minutes had Maggie unraveling.

 

When Maggie opened her eyes after, smiling up at Alex, Alex was looking down at her with a stunned expression.

 

“What?” Maggie asked, still breathless.

 

Alex bit her lips and shook her head a little bit. “I just- I really- That was amazing.”

 

Maggie laughed, body still vibrating and pulsing. She drew Alex into her and held her there as she steadied.

 

“That’s not it, though, right?”

 

Maggie frowned. “What do you mean?”

 

“We can go again?” 

 

Maggie let out a chuckle.

 

Alex buried her head against Maggie’s neck, kissing for a moment before saying, “Making up for lost time.”

 

“You might have to get me a RedBull first.”

 

Maggie’s giggle turned into a gasp as Alex started sucking at her pulse point and rocking against her thigh.

 

* * *

 

After what could have been hours or days, they came to rest on messy sheets, hair and limbs tangled, blissfully tired. Alex gazed at her, stroking Maggie’s hair over her ear for a long moment.

 

“You said your favorite part is after.” 

 

Maggie smiled, embarrassed she’d admitted as much before they’d even gone to bed. “You make a pretty compelling case for during.”

 

A satisfied smile flickered across Alex’s face. “What can I do to make it better?”

 

“Nothing,” Maggie assured her. “You were great.”

 

“I mean now. After.”

 

Maggie felt her cheeks warm, then she shuffled forward, curling into Alex’s chest so Alex couldn’t see the embarrassment on her face.

 

Alex’s arms wrapped around her, and Maggie felt a trembling disbelief that something this good and real was happening. Alex’s fingers brushed over her back and Maggie’s cheek crinkled against Alex’s chest as she let out a sleepy, contented breath.  

 

Alex knew all the parts of her: her toughness and her tenderness, how much she loved her work, her willingness to sacrifice to serve and protect. There was nothing to hide.

 

With anyone else, Maggie would have spooked and tried run away. But her feet had already left the cliff, and she couldn’t fight gravity even if she wanted to. Alex was already in the water below. Maggie had left her waiting long enough.

 

She felt a current of peace rush through her. Tonight would be one of many; a season or a year or a lifetime of meals together, smiles offered, kisses shared. Maybe someday they would wake up in a bed they shared, knowing they wouldn’t want anything else for the rest of their lives. 

 

Somehow, in all its struggle, in all its heartache, in all its chaos, the universe had delivered the exact right girl, in the exact right place, at the exact right time. 

 

And that had been worth waiting for. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (And they lived happily ever after.)


End file.
